


Rising From The Ashes

by vanillathunder215



Series: The Reluctant Hero [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Elder Scrolls Lore, F/M, Later non-canon, Political Intrigue, Sassy Nerevarine, Snark, other game references, sex and violence, some main quest, uncut director's version
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 268,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillathunder215/pseuds/vanillathunder215
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nerevarine, broken from years of turmoil, ends up in Skyrim in his self-imposed exile. After finding himself swept up in events far more adventurous than he planned on, including dragons, wizards, stubborn guards, elves with murderous intentions and a goofy kid who ends up being the Dragonborn, he finally finds himself back in Morrowind standing as her (reluctant) champion once more. Now he faces an army of Thalmor who are not keen on letting Morrowind slip from their grasp. Standing alongside friends old and new, the Nerevarine must fight for Morrowind's freedom once and for all or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 Swords (Embers)

Part 1 - Swords

Embers

Epilogue 

4E 175 – Cyrodiil. 

Nevano stood in the middle of the smoking remains of the city of Chorrol. Sweat mingled with the few stray tears that he couldn’t blink back cut tracks through the blood and grim on his face. All around him, battered and stunned citizens were moving around slowly, picking through the remains of their once great city. The bodies of men and mer littered the streets, citizens and Thalmor alike.

The beaten down remains of the city guard, Fighters Guild and Mages Guild carefully avoided looking at the Dunmer while they assisted in what they could. Nevano had swooped in, their hero, their savior, breaking the Thalmor hold on the city. But at a price…

Slowly Nevano looked up at the sky. Another tear slid down his face, the blue grey of his newly revealed skin standing out in stark contrast to the gritty mask of battle. He was a near perfect statue reflecting the mood of the survivors; a numb, stunned sadness with little whispering undercurrents of rage and terror. 

A bloodied Orc slowly walked up, visibly wary of the elf. He was a fellow Fighters Guild member and he knew Nevano’s legendary quick reflexes. Normally Nevano was a good-natured mer with a mischievous sense of humor and a penchant for getting into trouble. However, seeing the Dunmer like this, so broken and numb, was enough to make Orc wonder if he would snap. He did not want to have to deal with Nevano. He was a friend…and a deadly warrior. 

The Orc’s footsteps seemed to snap Nevano out of his dazed state and he sucked in a quick breath. “What?”

“Nevano…” the orc, Ogol gro-Bulfim, said hesitantly, “I just wanted to say…”

“Don’t.” Nevano said far more sharply than he meant to, “Leave it unsaid.”

“We all feel it, Nevano.” Ogol protested, “It can’t be left unsaid.”

Nevano didn’t answer. Slowly the sickening feeling of grief and heartbreak was settling in, constricting his lungs and twisting his guts. For him it was over. Eventually the citizens of Chorrol would rebuild. They were a tough people. They would pick up the pieces. But he was done. All that he had here was destroyed. As gro-Bulfim had said, everyone felt it, everyone knew, but it was left unsaid. 

It was time to go. 

XxXxXx

A/N: So I decided to post here instead of staying exclusively on ff.net. If I mess up posting somehow, I'm sorry I'm still trying to figure out the buttons as well as all the tags. This could get interesting...oh and this is going to be a massive chapter dump as I've already posted 21 chapters on ff.net. Here we go.


	2. Shattered Pieces

Chapter 1 

Shattered Pieces

XxXxXx

4E 201, Sun's Dawn, Skyrim

Nevano watched the human he had accompanied through the fiasco of Helgen trot off down the road towards Whiterun. It never ceased to amaze him how many people were chosen for heroic deeds from prison, or in this case a beheading. It also never ceased to amaze him how cheerfully the former prisoners took their new assignment and hopped to it like they had been chosen from a crowd of eager schoolboys with their hands waving in the air to be chosen. He could understand it…he too went through the exact same thing. The relief of being free, the eagerness for a second chance to prove yourself, all contributed to the willingness to do the bidding of another. Only later, when they were in too deep to get away, did the realization set it; you were the world’s tool. A pawn, cloaked in the pretty title of “champion” to soften the blow that you were cleaning the shit of the country off of men who either screwed it up too bad to know how to deal with it or simply didn’t want to. 

The Dunmer pulled his hood down low over his face. He was done being the “champion”. He was done fighting and fighting and fighting only to have his personal life utterly torn apart and left to rot. He wished that young man the best of luck. Hopefully he wouldn’t be destroyed husk in the end, or worse, dead. 

He turned the opposite direction, back up the mountain. He had been caught crossing the border several days ago and subsequently arrested by over zealous Imperial soldiers. For years he had crossed borders without incident and he had no reason to believe that that time would cause anyone to take objection. By Azura how wrong he was. But that pretty much summed up his entire life; wrong place at the wrong time. It reminded him of what Modryn Oreyn always told him, “You attract more trouble than a cave full of trolls.”

Immediately Nevano shoved that thought away. That brought up too many emotions he still wasn’t ready to deal with yet. Instead he put all his concentration into trudging up the mountain, dropping his cloak open to allow the cold air wash over him and send a chill down his back. He was super itchy in the beaten up leather cuirass. It wasn’t his. It was just something he had grabbed in the mad dash through the underbelly of the fort in Helgen. The iron sword awkwardly strapped to his slim waist with rope also wasn’t his but yet another “borrowed” piece of equipment. The damn Imperials had totally stripped him of his armor and weapons when they arrested him at the border. While losing items to guards and jailors was nothing new to Nevano, his armor and weapons and pack were particularly near and dear to him, not to mention extremely valuable. He wanted them back. If that meant trudging up a damn mountain into a still smoking ruin to loot his own belongings back, then so be it. 

XxXxXx

Helgen stank. There was no way around that. The city just stank. Though to be fair it had just been completely razed to the ground by a rather infuriated dragon. Ash, smoke, burned flesh, the tingly scent of magic and…a musky scent that he could feel as well as smell. It was a heavy almost repelling the other clearer smells…or everything else was running from it. Dragon…it had to be the scent of dragon. Nevano committed it to memory. His nose wasn’t near as keen as a Khajiit, but years trekking through the wilderness had honed his senses to an almost animalistic sharpness. 

He stood there for a moment taking it all in. It was really hard to believe that just a…what twenty four hours ago? That this was a city with innocent people just trying to go about their life. The beheading was, in fact, a diversion from the daily grind of survival, a brief respite from onerous life. Then they died. They didn’t really stand a chance against that storm of fury. He had seen it before and it never got easier. People dying was one thing, people died every day, but slaughter like this was hard to see. Solemn moment at the gate over, Nevano began to pick his way through the ruins, avoiding stepping on anything as much as possible out of respect and to avoid alerting any possible looters to his presence. He didn’t much feel like spilling fresh blood over the ashes. Helgen had suffered enough. 

As he tried to retrace his footsteps, in as much as he could remember, he could feel his chest tightening painfully with anxiety. Heaviness hung over the ruined town, an energy so oppressive he wanted to curl up on the ground. He found himself rooted to the spot, a wave of sadness and anxiety blooming in the pit of his stomach, spreading to his limbs and rooting him to the spot. Helgen melted away. Snowy ashes faded to be replaced by burning oak trees. The ruined stone and timber buildings morphed into Chorrol’s plaster, brick and wood beams. He saw the bodies of innocent civilians, burned by dragon fire and hacked by Aldmer weapons. A choked sob forced its way through his throat. He couldn’t save them. Once again, he had been too helpless, too late, too weak to save them. 

Nevano dropped to his knees as his legs gave out. Shaking hands ran over his head and grabbed at his messy dark red Mohawk. He rocked back and forth, trying as hard as he could to hold in the hysterical sobs that threatened to rip out of his throat load enough to attract the dragon back. No…no no NO! Nevano shoved himself back onto his feet, swallowing hard. He couldn’t allow this anxiety to take over him. Chorrol had happened twenty-six years ago. Twenty-six years and it was still affecting him. 

XxXxXx

Chorrol, Cyrodiil 4E 174

He had seen the smoke from the road. The Great War was still raging all throughout Cyrodiil but was mostly centered in the Imperial City. Still that didn’t stop the Thalmor from spreading into the surrounding cities to prevent any sort of uprising of local militia. 

He ran past North Country Stables, which was burning merrily. The horses were rearing and plunging in the pen, straining against the wood rails in a desperate effort to escape. There were nicks on the top rail from where the more athletic (and terrified) horses had made the desperate leap over and out into the woods beyond. 

Thalmor. 

Nevano had never held any amount of respect for the Thalmor. They claimed they saved the Altmer from the Oblivion Crisis. Unless he was mistaken, all oblivion gates closed when Martin defeated Mehrunes Dagon. Beating back the lesser deadra that came out of the gates and maybe closing a gate or two was not saving a race…it was riding on the coat tails of those who gave everything to beating back the Prince of Destruction. They had ridden that tide of meager fame, taking over the Summerset Isles and slowly spreading to Valenwood and Elsweyr. They hated Tiber Septim, which was understandable seeing as how the man had basically squished them when he assimilated Valenwood into the empire. Nevano had his own reasons for disliking the empire but that didn’t mean he would plunge an entire continent into utter chaos because of his religious preference. 

However his problem with them was that they were attacking his home. HIS home. He had grown up in Chorrol, been raised in Chorrol, had been trained and found his purpose in life in Chorrol. His family was there. And they were setting it on FIRE!

Rage began to bubble up from the pit of his stomach, spreading through his body like a raging inferno. His vision took on a red haze. This was HIS home, not those sons of bitches who had come crawling out of the woods! This was his home and he would do whatever possible to protect it. 

He pulled out his two swords, the blades’ enchantments glowing brighter to match the intensity of his rage. 

There were three Thalmor soldiers left to guard the gate. Obviously they weren’t expecting much resistance coming in from outside. After all, all the Imperial Legion was busy fighting in the Imperial City. The very last thing they expected was a lone Dunmer walking up, weapons bared. They stared at him, not threatened enough to approach him but definitely confused at this display. 

They weren’t so confused when Nevano thrust both swords in the gut of the middle Aldmer, arcing the twin swords up into his chest cavity, puncturing his stomach, both lungs and dissecting his heart. The Thalmor soldier never got the chance to even think about fighting back before he died. Nevano yanked both swords free as the body twitched in death throes, a gush of blood drenching his weapons and arms. 

Nevano heard the hiss of a sword being drawn and wasted no time, whipping his right sword towards the throat of the Thalmor on his right. This time the soldier was a bit more prepared and managed to get his sword up in a block, the resulting hit showering him the castoff blood of his comrade. Shaken up by the brutality of this mer and unnerved by the blood shower, he forgot about the other sword. The left sword cut low, slicing through his leather armor and spilling his guts out. Instinctively he dropped his sword and grabbed at his stomach to hold his intestines in. Nevano took advantage of the exposed position and put the Aldmer out of his misery by relieving him of his head with a quick swipe of an incredibly sharp blade. 

He spun around just in time to block a two handed thrust from the last remaining gate guard. This one was a heavily armed, rather large Aldmer and had a massive bastard sword that he swung rather quickly for a two handed weapon. Normally Nevano would dodge and duck until his opponent had tired out, leaving the perfect opportunity to land a deathblow but he was too angry to even think about fighting smart. He wanted blood, Thalmor blood, to coat the street, to cover the blood of his family and friends that they had spilled. He wanted to land a cut for every bit of damage they had wrought on Chorrol. His rage was a wild animal. It had gotten the taste of Thalmor blood and it howled for more. 

Sparks flew as he swatted the bastard sword aside with his left sword and drove the point of his right sword home in the exposed opening at the neck. His sword bounced off the colar bone and shredded the wind pipe as it sought the path of least resistance to the chest cavity. Gold skinned hands desperately clawed at the wickedly barbed edge of the blade, trying to pull it out but couldn’t even get a grip on the blood slicked sword. Blood spurted as he freed his sword, spraying him in the face as arterial blood pulsed out with the last few heartbeats. The rage beast in his chest roared its approval. It wanted more. 

No…no no. He had to rein in the monster. There were entire squads of Thalmor in the city. He couldn’t just charge in like an enraged troll. There had to be others in the city who could still fight. 

He sheathed his twin blades and unslung his bow from his back ignoring the pang of irritation. The pulsing rage in him wanted to see blood spurting, wanted to feel the heat of their last breaths. But he had to wait. There would be plenty of time for that later. Find his guild mates. He had to find them first. Then the slaughter of the defilers could begin. 

Nevano had grown up in this city. He spent his childhood running through the streets and his training days trying to see if he could cross the city without being seen. It had been a game back then. Now it was matter of life and death to make it from the gate, north through the city and to the Fighters Guild. Running through the gate and into the city streets would get him killed for sure. But there were other ways into the city.

He ran back to North Country Stables and ran behind the ruins of the farmhouse. Right by the wall there was a large rock settled next to a rather large oak tree. All the lower limbs had been hacked off but the rock provided a great stepping-stone to the next branch. He had done this so many times that not even with slick blood coating his hands could make him slip. Quickly he scaled the rest of the way and jumped onto the top of the wall. On the other side, another oak tree just peeked over the top of the wall. He had tried only once before to jump into that tree but he had missed and had broken his arm and a shoulder. But he had no time to try to pick the lock in the guard tower, or even see if he even had a lock pick on him. He sucked in a deep breath and leaped. By the blessing of Azura he managed to catch the trunk square. He hung there a moment, trying to get his heart rate down before dropping from the branches like a squirrel. He had no time to waste. 

He ran along the wall, keeping low and ducking behind the rocks that dotted the grassy areas of the city. He could see Thalmor soldiers in the streets in glimpses between trees and buildings. So far they seemed focused on the task of herding the surviving citizens towards the center of town. He could hear screams and crying over the crackle of flames. He pushed harder, skirting behind the shacks in the lower southwestern part of the city, tripping over Valus Odiil’s basement door. That trip ended up saving him. A Thalmor soldier he hadn’t seen the moment before suddenly turned as soon as his body hit the ground. His black armor blended in with the burned timbers and the Thalmor fortunately didn’t see him. 

Nevano waited until the soldier turned his back to him again before he pulled an arrow out. The bone biter bow warmed in his palm as he knocked the arrow. The bow was old and beat up but it had never failed. The arrow flew smoothly through the smoke and struck the Thalmor solidly in the side of the neck. He went down with nothing more than a gurgle, his vocal chords neatly severed. 

The Dunmer warrior pressed on through a few gates, going around the temple, hopping the short wall into the cemetery. He could see the back porch of the Fighters Guild. Thankfully the guild hall was mostly made of stone so it hadn’t been set on fire…nor had it been destroyed yet. Strange but a good sign for him. He crept up to the door and slung his bow on his back, drawing his twin swords. If there were any Thalmor inside he would paint the walls red with their blood. 

Sure enough he was met with drawn weapons and battle cries. He ducked as a hammer slammed into the wood right where his head had been. Nevano almost lashed back out, but he saw a flash of green skin. A very familiar green skin too…

“Ogol!” Nevano yelled as he ducked again, “You crazy orc STOP HITTING AT ME!”

“Nevano?” Ogol gro-Blufim stopped his hammer halfway through his swing to Nevano’s head. 

“YES!! For Azura’s sake…GAH!” Nevano started to get up but suddenly felt himself lifted up and wrapped in a bear hug by a giant orc that squeezed the air clean from his lungs.

“You’re alive!” Ogol cried, squeezing tighter in spite of Nevano slapping at his arm to release him, “We didn’t know if you had tried to come in…we had no idea where you were!”

“Where’s Oreyn?” Nevano wheezed as he tried to get air into his bruised lungs. 

“He…he was fighting them off. I…he…” Nevano narrowed his eyes. He could see Ogol fidget. There was something he didn’t want to tell him. The other Fighters Guild members also looked at the ground and shuffled their feet. Apparently the horror outside paled in comparison… Realization hit him like a thunderbolt. There was only one thing that they would fear telling him, to hesitate to admit to themselves out-loud.

Modryn Oreyn was dead. 

The mer who had rescued him from a life of slavery, raised him and turned him into a fighter. He was dead. He had been there for Nevano for everything, for every good thing and every bad thing. He was dead. The only person in this miserable world that actually cared if he lived or died, who didn’t care what his titles were so long as he believed in what he did. He was dead. The one that rightfully earned the title of father…but he had never said it out loud. He was dead. 

He. Was. Dead. 

The world dissolved into a numb haze. He could see the others talking but he couldn’t hear their words. Something deep in him shattered and fell into ten thousand pieces. He had never really fit in anywhere before, he had always been a wanderer but as long as he had had Modryn he had been ok. Now…he was truly alone in this world, in a world where he could not simply grow old and die. 

Then the rage started to build. Unlike the red rage he had felt earlier, this one built up slowly, freezing the blood in his veins. He was cold, he was numb…he was MAD. 

“I’m going out there. I’m going to start killing any Thalmor that moves. Get whatever mages that are still alive next door. Find SOMETHING that can still fight I don’t care if it’s a stray dog.” Nevano’s voice was ice cold, “None of them will leave this city alive.”

He didn’t hear if they argued or not. He couldn’t hear anything above the roar in his ears. The ice finally completely consumed him. He didn’t remember a thing after that.

XxXxXx

Helgen, Skyrim 4E 201

Shivering, Nevano forced one unsteady foot in front of the other. He had to fight through this. He couldn’t give in. There was still something left in him. He wasn’t ruined yet. He had learned that lesson a long time ago. He sucked in a breath of cold, smoke tinged air. The sharpness in his lungs helped him focus and chase away the black fog of fear and anxiety in his mind. He could do this. He was in control.

Somehow, in a brilliant stroke of luck, the carriages had never moved. The horses were still in their traces, or what was left of them anyway. No one had had any time to cut them loose and the dragon made sure there was no way for anyone to escape. No seemed to have time to grab the evidence chest that had been in the lead carriage either but the lock was not on it. Nevano frowned. Imperials ALWAYS locked things up. It was like an obsession with them. Dunmer would put curses on valuables, Bosmer would trap things, Altmer would magic things away and Nords often left things sitting out but Imperials loved their locks. Nevano carefully opened the chest, noticing that it looked like it had been rifled through quickly. Someone had been in here. But then he caught sight of a familiar piece of black leather and smiled. A small bit of hope finally filled his heart as he tugged at it, revealing his armor. 

He stripped out of his…borrowed armor and clothing quickly and eagerly. Something about wearing clothing that wasn’t yours just gave him the creeps. He brushed off his armor and pulled them on. Black leather with the typical Morrowind taste in rings and small ridges concealed the flexible mesh of glass plates. Super strong, super light and had been on his arse through a lot of fights. It had been a gift long ago for a rather difficult errand he had done for a blacksmith. He had no idea HOW the blacksmith knew his precise measurements but the armor fitted him like a glove and he hadn’t worn anything else since. It was a little ragged and covered in dirt but it was nothing he couldn’t repair later on his own.

Another small box contained the smaller pieces of his equipment. He refused to call it jewelry. That would imply that these were nothing more than useless hunks of metal. All of the pieces had enchantments on them…well ok, not the plain silver rings that he put back on his pointed ears. But the amulet he had gotten from the Urshilaku clan a long time ago and a very special ring were enchanted. He felt the slight tingle as the enchantments came alive and coated him like a second skin. He was rather surprised at how tense he had been without them. 

His pack had been untouched…and he unabashedly added to it with all the other items he deemed worth value from the chest. His compensation for his unfair treatment at the hands of the Empire…again. Standard release fee. 

But his weapons were missing. THAT irritated him more than anything. Like his armor, these weapons were one of a kind and not something he was going to just let go. As far as he knew, just him, the young Nord currently bouncing on the road to Whiterun and that Stormcloak soldier that dragged them through the caves were the only survivors. But knowing how fate went, the names of important men he had heard, General Tullius, Ulfric Stormcloak…he would bet his newly acquired septims that they had found a way to survive. While he rather had his doubts that they had his weapons, they might have an idea who else had survived and a clue as to whoever had gone through the chest. Well he came to Skyrim to find a fresh new adventure…looks like finding his weapons was going to be his first one. Giving the craptastic iron sword a disgusted look, he strapped it back on his waist and headed back down to Riverwood. As he took a step, something shook free of the ash and soot. Nevano blinked. His bow. The chiten short bow had withstood the fiery heat with the hardiness of its homeland. Well the string had snapped but that was an easy fix. Nevano smiled. Whoever stole his weapons hadn’t given the seemingly worthless bow a second look. They didn’t realize that this bow had a nasty tendency to drain them to the point their bones snapped while running away. 

Feeling much better now, he left Helgen in peace. 

XxXxXx

Whiterun was… a bit more impressive that he initially thought. If he went by the disparaging remarks made in both Cyrodiil and Morrowind, Nords lived in animal skin tents, gnawed on deer legs and drank mead all day. However he was pretty positive that there were plenty of Nords who lived like that and happily so. To be honest it sounded rather nice. However the stone and wood buildings were not so squished together that he felt claustrophobic. The wind blew through the streets, making it feel so light that Nevano could easily forget he was behind walls. 

He initially wasn’t going to go into Whiterun but he had a few extra septims to burn and after all he had been through the past couple of days a stiff drink and an actual bed was sounding really good. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a bed. Thanks to his time in Morrowind, he was very wary of sleeping on the ground, especially when he was alone with no one to take shifts in keeping watch. Too many nix hounds had thought him a delicious free meal. His habit was to climb a tree, find a fork in the branches to anchor himself in and tie himself in with his cloak. He did it a few times in the Great Oak in Chorrol JUST to confound his guild mates. It worked the first few times but then Modryn dragged him out and hauled him into the guild hall by his ear. That ended THAT. 

People stared as he went down the street. At first he thought it was because he was a stranger. That happened a lot. People get curious, especially when the stranger wasn’t from that particular province. At least the stares weren’t hostile. He knew perfectly well how Nords and Dunmer felt about each other and suffice to say, it wasn’t always….friendly. However it wasn’t until a child looked at him and giggled that he realized that there just might be a different reason for the stares. A quick glance down revealed just why; his armor was still covered in mud from when he had been shoved face first into the ground when he was arrested. He rubbed one hand on his face and it came back completely blackened with dirt and soot from the fires. Well…no wonder. He looked like he had just crawled out of a bog…and probably smelled like he did too. Hot meal first…then hopefully he could find a place where he could get a bath in. Preferably a hot one. He was already done with being cold. 

The sign said the Bannered Mare but in all honesty it could have been a sign publicly cursing his heritage but so long as it warm he didn’t care what it was called. Fortunately he wasn’t disappointed when he opened to door and was immediately enveloped by delicious smelling warmth. Several Nords were seated around a huge fire pit in the center of the room, drinking mead and telling obviously exaggerated tales of deeds. Nevano smiled; just the way he liked it. 

“Welcome to the Bannered Mare, stranger! Hungry, tired or just plain thirsty?” said a Nord woman behind a wooden counter. 

“All of the above.” Nevano pulled out a coin purse and handed it over. 

“You look like you need a good rest sir…Dunmer?” She angled her head to get a good look at his face, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen of a Dunmer with yellow eyes before…”

Oh yeah…the other source or stares and whispers: his eyes. Everything about Nevano screamed Dunmer, from his stormy blue grey skin, dark red hair that tended to go in every direction that was somewhat tamed into a warrior style Mohawk, tattoos that were more Ashlander in nature he kept hidden under his clothing, his manner, his dress…all except his eyes. Whereas all Dunmer had eyes the color of hearts blood, his eyes were gold. His old guild mates joked he must have been hatched from a hawk for not only were his eyes the color of a hawk’s but his exceptional eyesight were very hawk-like. When he went to Morrowind though, he heard whispers that he must have Chimer blood in him. Modryn Oreyn had the most sensible explanation of all: “You were born with it. Just be happy you were born with both eyes working.” He desperately missed Modryn’s super blunt declarations of wisdom. 

“It makes me a hit with the ladies.” Nevano felt his smile crack the dirt on his face, “Though right now I don’t think I would attract even a troll, let alone a woman. I’m pretty close to offending myself to be honest with you.”

The Nord woman smiled a bit critically as she took in his rather deplorable state. “Saadia will you help our customer out here?”

A Redguard woman came over from passing out more mead, “Yes, mum!” She turned to Nevano, casting her eyes up and down him before beckoning with her head, “Follow me.” 

Obediently Nevano followed her past the counter and down the hall, sadly away from that lovely fire pit. She didn’t go that far, fortunately, before she ushered him into a tiny cell of a room that held a wooden bathtub filled with steaming water. Nevano had never seen a more welcome sight. 

“Get yourself in. I want your armor in a pile by the door and I’ll get you some clothes to wear. No good looking mer such as yourself needs to go around in a second skin of mud like a Foresworn madman.” Saadia smiled at him warmly. Well, seemed even nasty and stinking he still made women fuss over him. 

Nevano didn’t even wait for Saadia to leave the room. He eagerly stripped and got in, groaned with pleasure as the hot water enveloped his body. Already he could feel layers of grim melting away, slowly transforming him back into a mer instead of the creature from the black lagoon. 

“Judging by the groaning noises I’d say you haven’t had a good bath in a while.” Saadia raised an eyebrow but flicked her eyes over him in appreciation. 

“No ma’am.” Nevano murmured, not embarrassed in the least bit, “Haven’t been able to submerge myself like this since I left Cyrodiil.”

Chorrol had a nice swimming hole a few miles northeast along the mountain trail. He had spent many a warm day with guild mates on their day off playing in the water there. It was a small pool, created by a waterfall from melting mountain snow and rain. No mudcrabs or slaughterfish to bother them and it was just a few miles from the overlook that offered a gorgeous view of lake Rumare and the Imperial City. Nevano used to go up there after particularly difficult contracts and just float silently well into the evenings. If he was lucky, deer, foxes, and once a pack of wolves would come and drink, never noticing he was there. The day he left he had sat on a rock next to the pool, trying to remember all the good times but all that came to him where the reasons for leaving. 

“You ok there?” Saadia had gingerly picked up his dirty pile of armor and was scrubbing the mud stains off in a smaller tub. 

“I’m fine. Just amazing how a hot bath starts bringing up the solemn memories.”

“Well at least you aren’t prone to singing like some of my other customers.”

“Singing is not among my many talents.”

“Oh go on sir…I don’t think I caught your name?” Saadia looked back over her shoulder at him. 

“Nevano.”

“No last name? You ARE the most unusual Dunmer aren’t you?”

“I get that a lot. But yes I am.”

“Well, I think I got your armor clean. It should be dry and ready to go in the morning.”

“Thank you sera.”

“When you’re done there’s a bowl of stew waiting for you.” Giving him one last warm smile Saadia went back into the main part of the inn, loud shouts for mead heralding her arrival. 

Nevano sunk under the water as soon as she left and scrubbed at his face and hair. Fortunately his unruly ridge of hair was short enough it didn’t require too much attention. The rest of his shaved skull was just as easy. The warm water was starting to remind his body just how exhausted he really was. He hadn’t been able to get a minute to rest from the moment he had started running from a giant oblivion forsaken dragon. He had a right to be exhausted. 

Once he deemed himself clean enough to be seen in public, he dragged himself out, instantly feeling the full force of his exhaustion. Almost automatically he pulled the clothes Saadia left for him on, ate his stew, somehow got up the stairs and into his rented room. There was a bed with a straw mattress and warm animal skins on top. He stripped, laid his sword on the bed next to him and crawled into the furs. That was the last thing he remembered before he crashed into a deep sleep. 

XxXxXx


	3. Perceptions

Chapter 2

Perceptions

XxXxXx

Nevano slept deeply throughout the night, mercifully without dreams. He was no stranger to dreams both good and horrible though lately they tended towards the latter. The support he used to have from Azura, one of the patron Daedra gods of the Dunmeri people, was on the wane lately. Whether it was from the recent disasters in Morrowind or his abrupt departure from his former life he wasn’t too sure but he hadn’t found the motivation to find out quite yet. He just wasn’t ready. 

When he finally dragged himself awake it was well into morning. Again this was nothing new. When he traveled he slept very lightly in case something decided to creep up on him. In a bed in a mostly safe environment? He was a rock. He once slept clean through a hurricane in the Anvil Fighters Guild hall. There was also the time he slept for almost 36 hours before Modryn finally flipped his bed over. It had actually become a bit of a game; who could come up with the most elaborate way of waking Nevano up. It had gotten banned after, somehow, the rafters caught on fire. No one had been able to explain that, especially when no accelerant or even a heat source had been used. 

With a yawn Nevano reluctantly pushed back the furs, grimacing at the sudden rush of cold air over his body. He was used to the agreeable weather in Chorrol or the heat and humidity of Vvardenfell. Heat being the key word. No Dunmer ever said they weren’t cold in the snow and wind. 

As Saadia promised, his armor had finished drying over night. He pulled it over and gave it all a very thorough inspection. It had gotten rather beat up on his way to the border and he had no idea just what they had done to it when they stripped him. Sure enough he found several rips, one of which had shiny glass platelets pushing through. All completely unacceptable. He rolled over and dug through his pack until he found a small leather case that housed his repair kit. 

The only bad thing about sewing rips and re-linking glass plates was that it put him in an introspective mindset. He honestly didn’t want to think. He had headed north to get AWAY from those memories, away from the pain. But they kept resurfacing, like rust on a sword blade. 

He missed them. He missed the guild. He missed his old guild mates. He missed his old life. Many of those he had grown up with were long since dead and gone, the downside of being a long-lived mer, but each generation had been unique and he always had someone he had partnered up with. Even when he had been gone for months, years at a time in Morrowind, they had always been happy to see him again. When Modryn died, he couldn’t face them again. He hadn’t been there in time to rescue him or many of the others that had died in the Thalmor assault. As he had stared at their grave markers, he realized that his time with the Cyrodiil Fighters Guild had died too. 

“Vith!” Nevano cussed as the needle he was stabbing his armor with instead went through the flesh of his finger. Physical pain over-rode emotional pain for the briefest moment, allowing him to shove it back into a mental box. He couldn’t allow that to well up now. He had a mission. He had a cause. He had to find his weapons.

He tossed his repair kit back into his pack and pulled his armor on. It was time to go. 

XxXxXx

“Hail Companion!” 

That was the fourth time Nevano had heard that greeting since coming out of the Bannered Mare. He couldn’t tell if it was a standard greeting or if they were confusing him with something else. He still wasn’t used to Skyrim mannerisms. He had heard a guard bitching about how he used to be an adventurer until he took an arrow to the knee. Nevano really hoped that that was an reference to something else and not an actual arrow in the knee otherwise he’d have to say that Skyrim was going to be completely overrun by dragons in a week. He quit counting how many arrows he had gotten struck with years ago. Most had been diverted or absorbed by his armor but there had been a fair few that had found their mark in his flesh, including one highly embarrassing one in the arse by a guild recruit. None of those injuries had ever once made him consider retiring from the road and taking up guarding. Especially not guarding. He’d give up his swords and be a mage first. 

As he wandered the general direction to the gate, he thought back to the journey ahead. He was fairly positive that his weapons wouldn’t end up in a random bandit cave. Weapons like that would be bragged about and, as with bandits the world over, they just couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Undoubtedly he would have heard about it by now. Plus he was fairly certain he had made it back to Helgen before the looters. This meant that they probably were taken by someone with far more influence and better guards in case he had to steal them back. However he didn’t have the foggiest idea where to even start looking and Skyrim was a very large country. 

“So YOU’RE the one the guards are confusing with our elite force.” A Nord woman in rather…revealing armor and warpaint that was fashioned into three great claws marks on her face suddenly appeared in front of the mer, blocking his progress towards the city gate. 

Nevano frowned. She was certainly pretty, especially with that armor, curves in all the right places and sinewy muscles that definitely appealed to Nevano’s taste but her intense eyes told him if he tried any sort of move on her he would be short a few parts. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm, you certainly LOOK like a capable warrior…but looks aren’t everything.” She said, almost to herself as she looked him up and down. 

Normally Nevano had no problem with a woman who checked him out. In fact he often encouraged it. But this woman…something just wasn’t right. Everything about her seemed fairly normal for a fighter but something…just didn’t smell right. Those intense predatory eyes of hers made his skin crawl. A flicker of a memory lapped at the back of his consciousness but he couldn’t quite place it…

“What do you think about confirming the guards’ chatter and joining the Companions?” She asked abruptly, her eyes meeting his with the shock of a whiplash. 

“Right…” Nevano struggled to keep up with this strange exchange, “What are the Companions and who are you?”

“Come to Jorrvaskr. We’ll answer your questions…and test your mettle as a warrior.” She turned and walked back off east through the city streets. 

Nevano stood dumbfounded until a man leading a horse drawn cart yelled at him to move out of the way. He was slow to respond but managed to move before the horse ran him over. His brain was really having a hard time comprehending this. He had never been just called out like that. That and he was a little insulted. He LOOKED like a capable warrior? LOOKED like a capable warrior?! A hard little ball of resentment settled in the pit of his belly. He had done far more than that Nord could ever hope to accomplish in her short pitiful human life span. 

Also had he just been invited to join a guild eh…group? Whatever they called themselves. That was a first. He had grown up in the Fighters Guild in Chorrol so it was pretty natural that he was just assimilated in once he came of age. When he had gone to Morrowind he had gone to the guilds and proven himself to them through many messy, sometimes morally questionable, jobs. But never would a guild in Morrowind EVER extend an invitation randomly to an outlander. This was all very strange to him and a little unsettling. 

Still…the Companions might prove useful if they wouldn’t mind sharing information. After all he had no allies in Skyrim, no connections and no information network. Experience told him that he had to put aside his pride and start making friends. That and jobs meant money and even with the gold he had collected back in Helgen, he would run out of gold fairly soon. He didn't have a lot on him to sell if he got in a pinch.

He sighed and readjusted his pack on his shoulder. He needed something to drink to think this over and not that coyingly sweet mead. That stuff tasted like fermented sugar. He wanted something stronger. The Nords loved the stuff and he had always been under the impression that Nords liked actual alcohol not sugar water. He wanted something that would go down hot and send liquid fire throughout his body until he was engulfed in a fiery haze. Mazte or flinn usually got the job done. A quick glance around and he saw the Drunken Hunstman. If that place didn’t have alcohol then he was a blighted kagouti. 

Unlike the Bannered Mare, this place was smaller and far quieter. Instead of mostly drunk Nords calling for more mead, the Drunken Hunstman was silent, save for the muttering of an old Nord man in the corner. The Bannered Mare had had a massive roaring fire pit lighting the place up with merrily crackling heat. Everyone had been gathered 

“Ah, hello my Dunmer friend. In the market for some hunting supplies?” A Bosmer man from behind the desk greeted him. That explained why it was so dead in here. By and large, Nords preferred to stick together. An inn run by a mer versus an inn run by a Nord woman? They would go to the latter every time. And they accused the Dunmer of being xenophobic…

“No, just something strong to drink.”

Mead. All they had was mead. Azura damn this miserable frozen hunk of ice to oblivion and back…

XxXxXx


	4. Temper

Chapter 3

Temper

XxXxXx

Jorrvaskr turned out to be an overturned boat fashioned into a building. The Mead Hall, as he heard the gossip call it. Great…more mead. Nevano winced at the mere thought. He kept trying it and each and every time his stomach tried to escape out his throat. Now he was going to walk into a capsized boat that had a fancy name that essentially translated into mead hall. Nevano stopped his internal rant and took a deep breath. He had no idea why he was being overly critical. Maybe he was still overly sore from “looking” like a warrior. 

He swallowed back his irritation, and his stubborn pride. He had to admit they did a pretty good job at turning this old ship into a rather nice looking place. In Morrowind he had seen all manner of housing, from falling down shacks to magically grown mushrooms made into opulent homes. Jorrvaskr had good strong wooden beams supporting it that had been carved in the traditional Nord style and the eves decorated with old wooden shields. Massive double sets of double doors with more traditional wooden carvings marked the entrance. The effigies of dragons on the entrance posts gave the building a rather intimidating front. Not as welcoming as a Fighters Guild Hall but Nords didn’t seem to put much stock in appearing welcoming. 

He did note the forge on the rise as he came up with interest. A giant eagle had been carved into the rock above it, the wings sheltering the fire from the incessant tundra winds. He had heard a few murmurs about a “sky forge” and there was little doubt in his mind that that was it. He would have to ask about that. 

Slowly he grasped the iron ring on the door. Homesickness panged in his stomach. This was so like the many, many times he had gone into a Fighters Guild Hall. He missed it. He missed home. But home was gone, crushed beneath the Thalmor invasion. 

Nevano grunted to himself and yanked the heavy door open.

XxXxXx

Raven Rock, Solstheim

Captain Modyn Veleth stared over the Sea of Ghosts, still as a statue, even as a cold Skyrim wind blasted him in the face. His Redoran Guard gave him a wide berth. They knew that when he was in this sort of mood, he was liable to give double shifts to those that bothered him. 

Eventually a ship appeared on the edge of the horizon. Finally Veleth moved; his eyes narrowed and his crossed arms tightened over his chest. He had been waiting on this ship for days now, his mood souring with each day it was late. Other members of the guard marked the blip on the horizon and gave a sigh of relief. The captain was a good man who cared greatly for the welfare of his men but when he was in a mood like this they would rather deal with an angry horker bull. That ship was the sign that things would go back to normal soon. 

Adril Arano, the Second Councilor of Raven Rock, walked down to the end of the dock to stand next to the imposing captain. He took in the dark sails on the horizon, sails that spoke of a ship of Dunmeri origin. “Took them long enough.”

A muscle leaped in Veleth’s jaw, “If I had to guess it was because they are being subjected to stricter inspections before being allowed to leave port. This isn’t the first one from Blacklight to be delayed like this…and it’s getting worse.”

“It’ll keep getting worse.” Adril said, “Really there’s nothing to stop them.”

Veleth grunted a reply, his mood darkening even worse. It was no secret that the Thalmor were becoming a rather irritating problem. More than irritating, they insisted on sticking their nose in everything the Dunmer did. Since Morrowind was still technically part of the crumbling Empire, they had insisted on being involved on politics in Blacklight, much to the outrage of the Dunmer whose battered pride couldn’t tolerate such intrusion. It had created the perfect storm of tension and tempers were flaring more and more frequently. Even more infuriating, they seemed to enjoy riling up the Dunmer and only redoubled their efforts.

His mood didn’t improve when the ship finally docked and a Dunmer messenger ran up to him with a battered, folded and torn scroll. “Many pardons, muthsera, but it was all I could do to hide it from them.”

Veleth nodded, taking it from him, “As long as I can still read it I don’t care if you have to have a guar swallow it for the journey here.”

He left the poor messenger standing there wondering if he was joking or not. He wasn’t. He didn’t joke very often. Granted there was no telling how the messenger would actually get the scroll OUT of the guar but that unpleasant job was not his to worry about. 

Veleth entered the Bulwark, the narrow quarters nestled within the thick walls that protected Raven Rock, and kicked the few guards that were in out for a patrol he randomly picked. He wanted to read this letter alone without giving them gossip fodder. Slowly he broke the seal and started reading the deadric letters, 

Modyn

The Thalmor grow bolder and more intrusive each day. They know they are not well received here but instead of trying to make friends, they seem to relish in it. The Imperials had at least attempted to be friends. Not that we WANT to be friends with these mongrels. They have been pressing to allow an envoy to Raven Rock. We are doing everything to thwart them but it's only a matter of time before they just go anyway. The only reason they wish to have influence in Raven Rock is to have control over every councilor in the ruling house. They believe we are weak without a monarch…in truth they might be right. We are not united under a single king, councilor, hortator or even the Nerevarine.

The captain sighed. The Nerevarine again…

The empire is weakening. It is only a matter of time before it crumbles. However the empire is not the biggest disaster on the horizon. There are rumors of greater threats. I won’t put them to paper just yet, not while there’s a chance the Thalmor will intercept this letter. When things come to light, and they will, I just want you to be ready. Keep Raven Rock safe until then. Hopefully we won’t lose every able-bodied Dunmer to Skyrim until then.

Your mother says she hopes you stay warm. 

-Your father.

Veleth crumpled up the parchment and stared into the fire for several long minutes. His father, Azura bless his old soul, was a little…eccentric, but age had not dulled his senses or his strength. An old Buoyant Armiger from the time of the Nerevarine, the mer knew times of danger and knew what it was to unite under one hero. That being said, he knew what his father was hinting at even if he didn’t put it in writing outright. 

Of course the thought of breaking from the empire was always on every Dunmer’s mind; it had been since they joined the empire and was refreshed when the Imperials abandoned them without a standing army during the Oblivion invasion. Losing the Great War and allowing the Thalmor free rein was just the straw that broke the Alit’s back. Leaving the Dunmer to be Argonian chow had done nothing to repair that wound. But more trouble? What greater threat could there be to the already battered Dunmer nation? 

Veleth threw the crumpled up note into the fire and watched it brown, then blacken as flames licked at it, turning it to ash. He had to think on this. He had no idea WHY his father was speaking of this to him. He was captain of the Redoran Guard in Raven Rock. His job was to protect First Councilor Morvayn and to kept Raven Rock safe, not a hero finder or someone who was in the position to save the Dunmeri homeland from invading Aldmer or whatever it was his father had imagined this time. He just hoped this was old age and paranoia speaking. 

The last of the note burst into a flame and collapsed into ash. He rather doubted it though...

XxXxXx

Whatever Nevano expected when he walked in, a fistfight was not high on the list of what he expected. A Dunmer man and a Nord woman were encircled by the rest of the Companions who were cheering on their favorite. Nevano raised an eyebrow but skirted around the edge of the ring to watch without being noticed. These two obviously didn’t particularly get along. There was no holding back as blood and saliva flew with each strike to the face. Nevano fondly remembered when two Orcs started to get into a fistfight like this back in Chorrol. Being a good foot shorter and a good 80 pounds lighter hadn’t daunted Modryn in the slightest when he got in the middle, knocked the Orcs heads together and tossed them both out of the guildhall. There had not been any stupid fights after that.

After what seemed entirely too long the diminutive woman backed the mer into a corner where he tripped over a table. He got a mouth full of knuckles as he fell forward and went down to his knees, spitting blood from a ruined lip and a bit tongue. 

“Had enough Athis?”

“N’wah.”

“Thought so.” The Nord woman smirked, “Next time I hear you say that again I’ll make sure to knock ALL of your teeth out.”

The crowd dispersed as the two split up. Nevano did notice with a small burst of racial pride that the woman was shaking her hand out and trying to crack her jaw back into place. A Redguard woman following her was sniping at her like a mother hen “I TOLD you, Njada. He might be a scrawny elf but he still hits hard. Stop letting him get to you like that you know he’ll just keep doing it. I’m not going to keep shoving your jaw back into place every time!”

Don’t underestimate the scrawny elves indeed…

No one had noticed him yet so he took a quick look around the room, noting that there were doors mirroring the ones he just came through on the opposite side of the room. The center of the room was down a few steps and dominated by a large roaring fire that Nevano appreciated more than just a little bit. Tables were situated around three sides and were laden with enough food to keep a guild full of warriors fed. Again there were the standard Nordic traditional carvings and decorations on the floor and walls, which was far warmer on the inside than the cold exterior. Still the place bespoke of proud warriors with deep-rooted traditions. Nevano could definitely respect that. 

The woman who had first confronted him on the streets was suddenly beside him, as silent as a mountain cat. “I was wondering if you were coming or not, Dunmer with the yellow eyes.”

Nevano forced his face not to reveal that she had totally gotten the drop on him, forcing his heart rate to slow and keeping his fingers from twitching to bow on his back. “Curiosity drove me here.”

“I am Aela. They call me the Huntress.” 

How fitting, Nevano thought, “I am Nevano.”

“Here I would have thought you would have been named for those unusual eyes. Speak to Kodlak. He’ll see if you have what it takes to be a Companion.” Aela said, “He has a sense for seeing the mettle of a warrior.”

“Hold on there, Huntress.” Nevano frowned, “I did not come here to actually join you.”

“Really? Then why did you come?” Aela’s blue eyes became hard again, almost predatory. Nevano felt his belly tense. Something was screaming at him in the back of his mind to be very careful. Something wasn’t quite right…

“I’ve been in this land for a handful of days and the first thing that I got to experience in this wild land was nearly getting eaten by an enraged dragon. By the time all was said and done and all of my body parts made it through Helgen more or less intact and not lunch, I discovered my weapons missing. Not just missing, but taken. I’m not here to join your ranks but rather I’m here for any information that might lead me to them.” Nevano met her eyes without flinching, noting the slight surprised widening of her pupils with a rather vicious delight. She hadn’t been expecting blatant honesty. “These are not just some sentimental pieces of iron. These are rather powerful and a lot of blood was spilled in the making and obtaining of them.”

Aela shifted her weight, “I will speak with Kodlak.” Nevano nodded. If that was all he was going to get so be it. “Wait here until then. He shouldn’t be long.”

With that, she turned and walked off towards a set of stairs that led down to a basement area. She walked with the grace and confidence of a predator, something Nevano usually found attractive in a woman but this time it just made him wary of her. 

He found a bench away from the center of activity where he could unobtrusively watch the entire room while still enjoying the warmth of that lovely fire. He didn’t feel much like talking to anyone else until he could figure out just what was wrong here. He could smell something…off. He could have sworn he knew that smell from somewhere. It was a very subtle smell, faint and heavy all at once. Like if a grain of rice could weight as much as a watermelon. But his brain came up empty. So he settled for picking out the ones with the strange smell. Two brothers, Aela and another big Nord warrior who he heard someone call Skjor. All with those predatory hard eyes that tried to intimidate him with a steely glare every time they caught him watching. He met every gaze with a steady look of his own, earning a tiny bit of respect each time he didn’t back down. 

“Well, more fresh meat. At least you look capable.” The bloodied Dunmer from the fistfight came and sat down nearby. 

“Sorry, not here for new recruit amusement.” Nevano quickly looked at the floor. A Nord couldn’t be expected to know what the color of his eyes meant but any Dunmer would know instantly. He didn’t want that out just yet. 

“Oh? So what did you come here for?” Athis sounded suspicious but after staring down the predators in the room, his gaze really didn’t threaten Nevano too much. 

“Oh this and that.” Nevano waved a hand in the air. 

Athis’ ruby eyes widened as he caught sight of the ring that always sat on Nevano’s right hand. Too late Nevano realized his mistake. By Azura he had it for so long he kept forgetting it was there. There was no hope of convincing Athis that the ring was anything else. The silver crescent moon with the golden 5-point star sitting at its middle was unmistakable. 

“Vith…”

“Nevano, Kodlak would like to speak to you now.” Aela appeared out of thin air suddenly. For once Nevano was happy for her impeccable timing. He stood up to follow the Huntress, leaving the Dunmer staring after him like he had just been dumped by a bucking guar. 

Nevano followed Aela down the stairs, past living quarters and through to the back private rooms. Through each door they went through the hair on the back of Nevano’s neck rose. The smell was more concentrated down here, more potent, especially in these back rooms. It was like walking into a wolf den. Wolf…Nevano almost stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Kodlak, this is the elf I was speaking to you about.”

“So a stranger comes to our hall, asking for information.” An older Nord with a grey beard was seated at a table. He was old yes, but his voice and posture was still strong. His eyes, too, had that predatory look but there was something else there. It was the same thing Nevano couldn’t place about the other but he didn’t feel uneasy with this man. If anything this old wolf was the only one here who actually put him somewhat at ease. “Come sit. Let me have a look at you.”

Nevano gingerly took a seat across Kodlak, still mistrustful despite feeling fairly confident he wasn’t going to be eaten. Grey eyes met gold but not in a challenge like Nevano had been experiencing all day. They simply searched his, direct and strong but nothing to suggest he would kill the mer at the slightest hint of weakness. “Been a long time since a heart as stout as yours has passed through these halls…not to mention one with such unusual eyes. Tell me boy, why are you here if not to join our ranks?”

“I was in Helgen when the dragon attacked.” Again Nevano relied on blunt honesty. It seemed to really work with these Nords, “The Imperials apparently take a dim view on crossing the border. They took everything: weapons, armor. I went back and recovered just about everything, except my weapons. Those weapons are…incredibly important to me. I’m looking for any information that might lead me to them again.”

“Weapons…” Kodlak got up and walked over to another table that had several open books splayed over it. “I understand the need to search for weapons. See, we too have been searching for a weapon, or rather, the fragments of one. Wuuthrad, the axe carried by Ysgramor, was shattered a long time ago. We are trying to collect the pieces of the axe and restore honor to it. So you see, we understand the importance of weapons and not just as warriors. So, tell me...why are your weapons so special to you?”

Nevano sat back in his chair, running a hand over his messy dark red ridge of hair. “These weapons…it’s not just sentimental value. They are more than that. They are to the Dunmer what Wuuthrad is to you. It’s a symbol of all the honor and hope your people ever had.”

“Very important symbols then.” Kodlak sat back down across from the mer. “Tell me about them.”

“They are twins. Both Dwemer made, curved like scimitars. One was wicked looking with spikes along the blade, with almost deadric looking cross guard with a ruby set in the center. It has a powerful flame enchantment on it. Its twin is far gentler with no spikes and a very minimal cross guard. It also has a flame enchantment but the flames are blue. They were a wedding present long ago.”

“A wedding present?” Kodlak chuckled, “Sounds like a magnificent wedding. Who were they gifted to?”

“Lord Indoril Nerevar and his queen Almalexia.”

Kodlak got up and went back to his table, flipping through one book, “I have heard those names before…I know I have.”

“I can save you the research. Nerevar was the Chimer general and king who ruled Morrowind back when it was called Resdayn. Almalexia was his queen and later part of the Tribunal, which is now no more.” Nevano had to struggle to keep his distaste for the Tribunal out of his voice, “Those three are merely considered saints now. The Tribunal was disbanded well over 200 years ago.”

“How is it you came to have these weapons?”

“Let’s just call it inheritance.”

Kodlak nodded, “I see no lie in your eyes. Truth be told I have never seen nor heard of those weapons before today. Certainly if a bandit group had such treasures they would be bragging by now and we usually are one of the first to either hear of it or are asked to remove such a bandit group. However I can ask around…if you would do us a favor in return.”

Nevano nodded, already anticipating this. There was no such thing as a free favor. “A gah-julan then. Great benefit to us both.”

Kodlak smiled and nodded, though Nevano could tell that the foreign word went clean over his head but the sincerity behind them wasn’t lost on him, “We have tracked down one of the three fragments of Wuuthrad. You seem a perfectly capable warrior. If you would track down this piece and return it to us, I’ll share with you all that I have learned about the whereabouts of your weapons.”

Nevano stood and gave the old man a traditional Dunmer bow of respect, “Thank you, muthsera. This means a great deal to me.”

Kodlak waved off his show of respect, “I am just an old man. We are warriors. This is what we do. Vilkas will fill you in on the location of the fragment.” 

As Nevano got to the door he paused, “Oh…in case it ever comes up. Those two weapons...they have names. They are called Hopesfire and Trueflame.”

XxXxXx  
He 

Dustman’s Cairn. It had taken a good bit of time to finally wheedle the name out of Vilkas. He had been very distrustful of this strange Dunmer with the strange eyes and didn’t think the old man’s decision was wise. Since this was a bit of a personal favor and not something he was actually going to get paid for, Nevano found it highly irritating. He wanted to get this task done. He had zero interest in joining these predatory Companions. They had honor, yes, but that honor was tainted. Kodlak seemed to be ok but the others were too deep in that taint. He wanted nothing to do with it. 

He bought a map from a local shop that had obviously once belonged to an adventurer. It was old, worn, had a few blood stains dripped on it and had many caves, tombs and landmarks already marked on it, just the way he liked his maps. Purely out of luck, Dustman’s Cairn was marked on there, way east, northeast of Whiterun. It would take a daylong hike but it wasn’t anything he was already used to. 

Despite being cold and windy, he had to admit Skyrim really was beautiful. The tundra rolled out from Whiterun, rocky and crisscrossed with streams and rivers. Craggy mountains rose majestically all around, covered in pine trees and snow. It was strong and beautiful, hardy and serene. Nevano had never seen anything like it before. Nor had he ever seen a place just crawling in deer before. Morrowind you had to basically learn to eat anything and Cyrodiil was far more…domesticated. Skyrim was just filthy with game. At least if he was stuck in the wilderness for an extended period he wouldn’t have to look too hard for something to eat. 

He checked his map as he crested yet another hill. He should be getting close but there was nothing around here that would suggest a cave was nearby. He had no idea what a cairn was but was willing to bet it was underground, which meant a cave, which meant there had to be some sort of…

Nevano yelped as he suddenly stepped clean over the stone lip of a massive hole. Instinct took over and he tucked himself into a roll just before he hit the stone floor. “Found the cairn” he groaned, untangling himself to count what he might have broken. Fortunately, other than a banged hip and a very bruised ego he was ok. So…a cairn was a hole in the ground. A STONE hole in the ground. Meaning he needed to not stare at maps while walking, which was also known as “stop making stupid mistakes”. 

Nevano rolled his shoulders and nearly recoiled when he caught sight of the door. Dear sweet Oblivion he hadn’t seen doors like that since deadric shrines in Morrowind! This was not a simple little errand. Places like this were rarely uninhabited and what DID live there was usually something with a very nasty temper and a taste for adventurer flesh. 

The bonebiter bow was pulled from its holster and held at the ready. Find the fragment, get out quickly, try not to be seen. He normally didn’t like the sneaky approach but he felt distinctly naked without Truefire and Hopesflame. The piece of crap sword he had discarded in disgust wouldn’t have held up against a rat, let alone this place. In close range, he was a sitting kagouti. Gingerly he pushed open the creepy door and went in. 

The smell hit him first; old, stale air, earthy but with a hit of decay in there. Make that a lot of decay. Never mind, body decay. In addition to “random stone hole in the ground” Nevano added “tomb” to his mental definition of “cairn”. Sure enough, in the very first room he walked into, there was a dead body on the floor. A remarkably well preserved dead body though, he marked as he stepped around it. So the ancient Nords interred their dead and the tundra provided the perfect conditions to basically mummify the bodies, unlike the Dunmer who burned their dead and kept the ashes within family tombs or in temples. 

He continued along to the hallway in the back of the room, through what looked like a catacomb of tombs build right into the rock with more mummified bodies standing upright in alcoves. Definitely one of the creepier holes he has crawled into. Several of the bodies were dressed in old ancient armor and a few even had weapons interred with them. They must have been quite the warriors in life, the mer mused as he crept along.

Then he froze as a growl echoed off the stone walls from behind him. Every hair on his body stood upright as something moved behind him. No such thing as free favors indeed…

XxXxXx


	5. Dungeon Diving

Chapter 4 

Dungeon Diving

XxXxXx

3E 427 – Imperial City

Nevano’s knife had given him away. Which was strange considering his knife had been stolen from him months ago. Not just any knife, it had the deadric letters Dunmer used spell out his name on the hilt. It had been a birthday gift from Sabine. He didn’t own a lot so the knife had meant a lot to him. Somehow or another it had been stolen out of his boot. He had been less than thrilled to discover that. However it had turned up. In Kvatch. In the back of a rather well known business man, who was found face down in the gutter outside his home by his wife. 

Naturally it had been his fault, despite the fact he had been in a city on the opposite side of Cyrodiil the day it happened. But none of that mattered. It had never mattered. He knew that know. As he huddled in a ball in a corner of the damp, dank jail cell he knew that it would never matter. The city watch made up a story to match what little evidence they had, never mind there were a lot of eyewitnesses who were willing to speak on his behalf and say he was in Cheydinhal at the time. It didn’t matter that a scared innocent kid was in prison for something he didn’t do. All that mattered was that they had “solved” a high profile murder that, for once, wasn’t some mysterious Dark Brotherhood assassin that would never ever be found. Nevano leaned his head against the stone, hoping that the coolness of the rocks would offer some comfort to his feverishly working mind. But the damp rocks weren’t in the business of offering comfort. They were meant to hold in misery, not allow it to escape, even to those who weren’t meant to be in here. 

An enraged bellow echoed through the maze of stone and iron. A familiar bellow, one that sent a tendril of feeble hope through his battered body. He scrambled, clawing over the filth on the floor to the bars on the door, leaning out as far as he could to find the source. He knew that bellow. He KNEW that bellow!

There was a slam of a door and pounding, determined footsteps coming towards him. A mixture of fear and hope engulfed him. He could barely see as they swirled into a tornado in his belly and exploded in his head. He choked out a sob. He hadn’t cried since he was a small child stuck in the misery of slavery. Then Modryn had saved him, given him freedom and hope. He hadn't had anything to cry over since then. 

“Nevano. Nevano!” slowly he looked up to a familiar hard, red-eyed gaze that was tinged with…was that worry? No…Modryn Oreyn was never worried. The mer would get impatient, irritated or down right furious but it was rare to ever see him worry. Right now Nevano didn’t want to see worry. Worry in such a hardened warrior implied that there was nothing he could do, that Nevano was truly screwed. 

“Easy, calm down.” Modryn crouched down so he was eye level with the young mer, “Stop that crying. You’re a warrior. You’re a fighter. Don’t let this place suck the soul out of you.”

“I didn’t do it. I swear! I swear I didn’t do it!” Nevano blubbered out, frantic to get the only person in this world to truly care about him to understand, “I wasn’t even THERE! I wasn’t NEAR Kvatch! My knife was stolen I…”

“Nevano! Stop! I know that.” Modryn frowned, his old impatience showing through. That comforted Nevano more than anything. That was normal. “I know you didn’t. I would have believed you even if you were in Kvatch. I know you better than these stupid s’wits.”

“So when can I get out of here? When can I go home?” 

“Nevano… I’m doing everything I can..” Nevano didn’t hear the rest of it. A cold horror washed over him, blurring his vision and making his ears buzz. That meant no. That meant he was in trouble. Modryn couldn’t save him. He was going to be found guilty of murder and hanged. 

“NEVANO!” Modryn roared in his ear, making him wince. Then Modryn began speaking to him in the Dunmeri language, the words flowing out smoother than any human language. Nevano’s rattled mind latched on to the words of his native tongue far easier than the rough common words. Slowly, bit by bit, he relaxed. 

“There.” Modryn switched back to common, giving the glaring guard a look that dared him to challenge his use of a foreign language. “Listen to me, Nev. They want to charge you. I don’t get WHY but something is going on. The emperor himself is taking interest. This isn’t a normal case. Just stick to the truth and keep your courage up.”

The guard made a protesting noise, “Watch what you say, sir.”

Modryn completely ignored him but the sudden darkening of his eyes spoke of the very real threat of a trip out the window, “There’s talk of exile. To Morrowind. Nevano I can’t stop any of this but remember everything I taught you.”

“…I’m never coming home again, am I?”

“One day you will.” Modryn quirked a small smile, “One day they can’t say no any longer. But I also know you. Morrowind won’t know what to do with you…again.”

“This time I won’t let it beat me.”

“Good boy.” Ruby eyes turned warm. “They think they are sending you to your death. But I know better. I know you’ll do more than survive. You’ll thrive. There will always be a place for you with us but I have a feeling you’ll have outgrown us. Just don’t forget about us.”

“Never.” Nevano swallowed his fear back. Slowly he could feel his courage coming back. He could do this. He could keep his courage and survive. 

He just had no idea how hard that would be in the coming months. 

XxXxXx

4E 201 Suns Dusk - Skyrim

Nevano hit the ground just as a sword whistled over his head and struck the stone wall. He rolled and spun, knocking an arrow in one fluid movement and firing it off into his assailant. The mummified corpse he had seen in the alcove earlier dropped its sword as the close range arrow hit it in the face with enough force to blast its head clean off its body. It collapsed, the ancient magic that had reanimated it bleeding out and returning the body to full dead. The other corpse kept coming, raising its axe above its head. Nevano was still in a terribly exposed position on his back on the ground, perfect to be flayed open by an axe. Scrambling, his foot found a rock jutting up and shoved on it hard. He slid out of the way just in time for the axe to slam down where he had been just moments before. As the corpse recovered and wound up to strike again Nevano jumped to his feet. Fortunately he was the faster of the two as he knocked an arrow and fired it square into the thing’s chest, blasting it back into the wall. The bonebiter enchantment shattered the thing’s chest like it was made of glass, bone shards flying everywhere. It didn’t get back up. 

Shaky hands ran over messy hair. That was completely unexpected. Reanimated mummies. Who would have thought Skyrim, of all places, would have the same level of tomb security as Morrowind. Funny considering the Nords had always been very jaundiced to the Dunmer funerary practices. Actually everybody had been, but the Dunmer always thought the Nords the least of the human races. Still, Skyrim lesson learned. Caves and tombs here were not just the usual trolls and rats and bandits. He resolved to fire an arrow into each mummy thing he happened to catch sight of, whether it was up and walking or not.

As he meandered through the rooms and hallways he found a few more of the corpses, one of which was actually walking around, still patrolling as if it had never died. However none of them saw him and the Bonebiter Bow proved to be stronger than whatever enchantment animated the dead. One arrow shattering whatever it struck was usually all it took to send the undead back to their eternal rest. 

So it was a bit of a surprise when voices echoed up the hallway he was sneaking down. Human voices. The dead could speak and often did, but their voices were unique. They would pour what energy they could muster to burst through the veil that separated the living from the dead. Sometimes it would be one strong word that seemed to echo from the very skies but when it was whole sentences it was wispy and had no pause for breath. The longer the sentences, the more it seemed a gentle breeze would carry the words away. But this was not it. These were strong voices, spoken from a living breathing body, and Nord from the sound of the accent. This land had been getting the drop on Nevano since he first stepped foot across the border. He refused to be taken off guard again. Caves and tombs were rarely good places to meet new friends. Those who hung out in such unsavory places were often just as unsavory. He flattened himself against a wall to listen. 

“We’ve been down here for 3 miserable days.” 

“Knock it off. We don’t need you reminding us of every minute that passes in this disease ridden hole.”

“How do we even know they’ll come?”

“They’ll come. Those werewolves are nothing if not predictable. They’ll come for the fragment. It’s bait they can’t refuse.”

THAT’S what that smell was. Werewolf. Strong, fast, the ultimate predator and incredibly hostile. He hadn’t smelled one in a long long time, not since he had been on Solstheim all those years ago during Hircine’s little planned hunt, which explained why he didn’t recognize it right away. Werewolves weren’t common in Cyrodiil and the Dunmer aggressively hunted down vampires and werewolves almost to the point of extinction. After he had left Soldtheim he hadn't seen another werewolf.

“Couldn’t we have set the bait somewhere other than this draugr pit? I hate how they just pop up out of the walls.”

Draugr? So those dried up ash yams had names? That was interesting. At least whenever someone warned him of draugrs in a dungeon he would know what they were talking about. But now he had to worry about these werewolf hunters. On one hand he could understand the need to wipe out such horrors. Werewolves were usually dangerous and highly unpredictable. They were unable to control their blood lust and would absolutely tear apart innocent people to satisfy their hunger. He had seen victims of werewolf attacks. It wasn’t pretty. Hircine was vicious deadra to worship. 

But on the other hand, he had a grudging amount of respect for the Companions. They were spoken of very highly and they DID help out the people, which is what he had devoted his life to. No one had been complaining of werewolf attacks and, up until now, no one seemed to be remotely aware that there were werewolves in the middle of the city. So they either fed on something other than people and kept their bloodlust pretty well under control, or everyone in Whiterun was a werewolf and his nose had failed him for the first time in his life. He strongly suspected the former.

Mind made up Nevano strode boldly into the room, two arrows held behind his back. “Under sun and sky muthseras. How does the day greet you?” The two men just stared at him like they had never seen an elf before a day in their lives. “Well I suppose it would be difficult to tell if it was day or night in here, being underground and all. For all I Know I should be asking how you fare under moon and star.”

“Who are you? How did you get in here?!” The smaller of the two demanded wildly.

None too bright werewolf hunters it seems… “Who I am is not very important at this moment. As to how I got in here? I walked. Same as you. Saw this lovely hole in the ground and thought it was a nice place for a stroll.”

“You’ll pay for your cheek. He’s with the Companions! Kill him!!”

That was pretty quick. But that was why an elf should always carry emergency arrows. It was a neat little trick, firing two arrows at once into the two charging werewolf hunters. Neither of them were smart enough to flank him, running straight at him. Bonebiter nailed them both in the chest, cleaving clean through their armor and shattering their chests. They died as fragments of armor and bone punctured their lungs and shredded their hearts. 

The rest of the cavern held no more surprises other than more draugr and werewolf hunters. He finally fell into his old dungeon diving mindset. He became silent death. Nothing saw him and nothing could withstand the shattering effects of Bonebiter. He picked up a few baubles along the way, happily filling his pack. He found a very interesting necklace that made his fingers tingle when he touched it that he decided to keep but the rest he would sell back in Whiterun. It wasn’t a bad life, adventuring. It was incredibly dangerous and required a certain level of skill to stay alive but it was full of thrill and quite profitable if one learned to manage earnings. Nevano couldn’t imagine a life doing anything else. 

Finally he got a large room that was filled with sarcophagi. None of them popped open as he walked in but he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Those draugr had a nasty habit of coming out of their tombs well after he passed them. It had really pressed his skills in firing off a bow quickly and in super tight quarters. 

At the back of the room there was a raised platform with an ornate table. He carefully walked up, keeping a watchful gold eye on the sarcophagi. His footsteps sounded unnaturally loud, like the entire room was holding its breath at his approach, watching him walk up to the dais with hungry eyes. He strained every sense he had in trying to find monsters in the dark but there was no smells, sounds, movements or vibrations to suggest he was in the company of anything but himself. 

The wall behind the dais caught his attention first. It was unlike anything he had seen in the rest of the tomb. It was filled with words written in a dialect he had never seen before. An enormous ancient statue of what he assumed was the old Nords depiction of some sort of animal, maybe even a dragon, hung over the wall. He put his hand on the wall, feeling a slight tingle of powerful ancient magic flowing through the rock, concentrated on the writings. However, the magic repelled him gently, pushing his hand off the rock. Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant for him. Well, he wasn’t going to push it. Ancient magic like this could turn deadly in an instant. His ring was proof enough of that. 

On the table there was a few gold pieces that Nevano swiftly pocketed, a few fragments of a soul gems and a piece of a hilt that could only be a fragment of Wuuthrad. Carefully he picked it up, marveling a bit at how heavy the fragment was for a scrap of a hilt. He shrugged his pack off one shoulder and carefully secured it. Time to get out of here. 

No sooner had he pulled his pack back on his shoulders that the big door leading into the room slammed shut and locked. A burst of nervous adrenaline exploded in Nevano’s belly as the familiar sound of a sarcophagus exploding open and a growl echoed through the stone room. Well a single draugr wouldn’t be much of a hassle. He pulled his bow out. One shot and he could head back…

It wasn’t just the one. Every sarcophagus in the room began to explode open. Soon the air was filled with inhuman growls and snarls. Glowing blue eyes fixed on Nevano. 

Adrenaline now pumped with a new fervor through his body, rushed by the rise of dread in the pit of his belly. This was a bad situation even if he was fully equipped with both Trueflame and Hopesfire and had half the Chorrol Fighters Guild at his back. But one thing was for certain…he was not going to go down without a fight. He jumped up on the table, firing arrows as fast as he could, striking something with every shot. Any draugr that made it to the steps would get an arrow to the face. Some made it to the steps missing limbs or, the more determined of the bunch, with giant cracking holes punched clean through. His fingers cracked and bled from the constant strain of the bowstring, showering him in the face with droplets of his own blood. His heart pounded but slowly exhilaration overcame the fear in his belly. Blood pounded in his ears and he felt almost giddy each time an arrow struck. THIS was a fight worthy to brag about!

Suddenly he blinked. His arrow struck the last draugr in the chest; the arrow punching clear through it’s back, severing the spinal cord. It dropped like a puppet with cut strings. The cavern was suddenly silent, bits and pieces of draugr scattered everywhere as arrow-ridden bodies lay over each other. He had done it. All told, sixteen draugr lay in a broken heap at his feet. Nevano fell flat on his arse on the table, his knees suddenly jelly as the last of the adrenaline left his system, leaving him weak and exhausted. He hadn’t felt a rush like this since…well, ok running from the dragon in Helgen with his hands tied together WOULD count as a rush but the one BEFORE that had been a long time ago, when he got his last contract from Modryn. That had been a real doozy…

Nevano’s head snapped up as the last sarcophagus in the center of the room exploded and one last draugr rose up. This one was much larger than it’s counterparts and had armor on. A tingle of magic made Nevano’s nose itch, telling him that this thing was probably going to lob some sort of nasty destruction spell at him. Well if he nailed it through the spine again like the last one while it was still rising he could avoid a fight altogether. 

He reached back for an arrow…and grasped at air. 

He was out of arrows. 

XxXxXx


	6. Ghosts

Chapter 5 - Ghosts

XxXxXx

4E 201 – Raven Rock

Captain Veleth usually was a fairly busy mer. Keeping Raven Rock safe and secure was his number one priority of course and that filled out his time quite a bit with patrols, killing bandits, training his men, keeping his men in line and making sure they weren’t hiding contraband from him. He was able to spend a few moments of the day with Dreyla when she was able to escape the notice of her father but those moments were very brief. But in the bits of free time he actually had, he was a bit of a history buff. Maybe part of that was influence from his father, who had been a part of a rather significant bit of Morrowind’s history himself. Veleth had grown up on those stories and had eaten them up eagerly, always begging for more stories until his mother had handed him his first history book. It had been…well history from there. 

Tonight he casually flipped through a copy of The Red Year V. II. It wasn’t an actual history book persay but it was an account directly from those who had survived the eruption of Red Mountain. There wasn’t a single Dunmer who hadn’t been affected by the eruption. He hadn’t been born yet but he vividly remembered the haunted look of every Dunmer who had lived through it. To this day, 196 years after the fact, the devastation still was vividly felt. 

He dropped the book into his footlocker, watching it bounce among the messy heap of books. Ancestors and the Dunmer, The Eastern Provinces, Great Houses of Morrowind, On Morrowind, Pocket Guide to the Empire, The Red Year, The War of the First Council, The History of Raven Rock, The Real Nerevar… all books that depicted Morrowind’s turbulent history and those barely scratched at the surface. If what his father was saying was true, Morrowind was about to face yet another major upheaval. He idly wondered how many books would be written in the years to come.

Veleth kicked his chest shut. As he did so, his copy of Nerevar Moon-and-Star fell from its precarious position where it had fallen between the chest and the bed. He stared at it for moment before picking it up. His father…had been there when the Nerevarine had gone into Red Mountain. More than that, he had actually KNOWN the mer. Jorun Veleth’s near fanatical devotion to the Nerevarine was considered a joke, an old mer clinging to old stories. But, in a brief flicker of understanding, he could understand the need to have one mer to unite underneath. It had been a time where people had been scared and dying and no one was doing anything to save them. It was almost like a fairy tale. Too bad the Nerevarine himself was gone. 

The Captain got up to go walk another patrol, putting the book back where it belonged carefully before he left. Too bad indeed. 

XxXxXx

Dustman’s Cairn

He had just made the biggest rookie mistake ever. If you’re going to rely on a bow, always bring extra arrows. Also, bring extra arrows. And extra arrows. He forgot the extra arrows. Classic rookie mistake. It was also the classic rookie mistake that most often got the rookies who made the mistake dead. He was pretty certain that some of the arrows he fired earlier were still serviceable but there was a rather large and rather angry draugr between him and them that looked pretty intent on killing him and was moving alarmingly fast towards him. 

Nevano did a back roll off the table just as the massive sword cracked down on it, sparks flying as the metal clanged off stone. Almost immediately the draugr was winding up again for another strike, impossibly fast for such a heavy weapon even for an undead. Desperately trying to figure out an offensive move Nevano could only continue to duck and dodge each strike. Maybe if he could get around to the other side he could grab an arrow and nail the monster in the face. Even if it didn’t kill it it would, hopefully, be blinded. Provided that it could still see in the normal sense and didn't rely on some crazy undead senses that not even a necromancer could explain. It was the only strategy he had for now. 

“Fus Ro DAH!” 

Strange words whose language he didn’t recognize seemed to reverberate like thunder in the room. Everything seemed to shake with the mere force of the words, like the words THEMSELVES had just forced themselves on the world. Bodies of the draugr he had already killed flew back by an unseen force to slam into the wall, taking with them a chance to grab an arrow. Another body slammed into the Dunmer, knocking him off his feet and the air out of his lungs. The bone biter bow flew from his hands and clattered across the cavern. Nevano’s head spun, a massive headache building up. By Azura the mere power of those words…he had never seen, or rather heard, a spell uttered like that before. His head throbbed in agony in tandem to his rapid heart rate, nearly blinding him in pain. 

The draugr didn’t hesitate. It saw Nevano was down and rushed at him, greatsword already winding up over its shoulder. It sensed victory was close. 

Nevano heard the footsteps running up to him. They seemed to match the painful pulsing in his head. He heard the snarl. It had taken a different tone. Victory. It thought it had won. In all honesty it had every right to think that. He was down, weaponless, defenseless. Even a blind cliffracer could hit him right now. 

No

Anger suddenly bloomed in his chest. It spread like a red mist through his body, giving new energy to weary limbs. The blood pulsed hot in his veins. He was NOT going to die here. He had not lived through everything to die in a hole in the ground in a foreign land. He was NOT going to die here. He would NOT die HERE!

He stood up mechanically. It was like a whole different person was controlling his body. All he could feel was anger throbbing in his veins. The world had slowed nearly to a completely halt. The draugr was coming at him still but it was like ice was slowly freezing it on the spot. His focus narrowed on that draugr, on that reanimated corpse. It wanted to kill him. He wasn’t going to let it. Burning gold eyes met burning blue ones. The draugr no longer had the sense of understanding like it had in its former life, but what was left in it suddenly understood; it was going to die. 

Suddenly time ran normally again. With mere moments to act, and with the same disjointed feeling like he wasn’t fully in control of his body, Nevano swooped low, ducking under the powerful desperate swing of the greatsword, grabbed a sword that had been dropped by an earlier foe and spun around to parry the second stroke that came in a upper cut meant to slice him open from belly to chest. Strength powered by sheer rage drove his sword arm, actually pushing the draugr back a step. That was all the space he needed. Swift and methodical strikes cut through ancient armor and through the dried, stretched skin and tendons beneath it. Bones splintered as the blade struck and drove on through. The final stroke took the powerful draugr’s head off. It rolled out of its horned helmet and bounced across the floor before finally coming to a rest, the unnatural blue light finally fading from its empty socks. 

Good job lad.

Nevano dropped to his knees as the gentle words slipped through his mind like silk, the strength draining from his body as his rage abated. The only thing that kept him from slumping completely to the ground was the weird feeling that something was bracing against his shoulder, holding him up. Like, whatever it was that helped him fight was now keeping him from falling. Unfortunately neither the unseen support nor his dropping blood pressure did a thing for the headache still pounding in his skull. Whatever that magic was, it was still reverberating around in his skull. He just wanted to curl into a quiet corner somewhere and sleep.

Forcing his exhaustion back, Nevano retrieved his bow and found a few arrows that were still in good enough condition to reuse. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to see him back to Whiterun safely. His obligation of the gah-julan was fulfilled. If nothing else he wiped out a nest of undead and a fair few werewolf hunters for his new canine…well he wasn’t going to call them friends just yet. Canine…acquaintances. The fetchers better appreciate this. 

XxXxXx


	7. Rats, Dreams and Dragons

Chapter 6

Rats, Dreams and Dragons 

XxXxXx

It was night by the time Nevano emerged from the cairn. The Skyrim night sky was absolutely gorgeous. The crisp cold air seemed to accentuate the stars. Masser and Secunda hung big and clear in the sky, even closer to Nirn up here in Skyrim than they were in Cyrodiil. But what really captured his attention was the lights. Pink tinged green lights curled in shimmering ribbons through the night sky. Nevano had only heard stories of the Northern Lights before but this was his first time to see them. But as much as he would love to star gaze for a while, he was completely exhausted and with his head still pounding unmercifully all he wanted to do was find a tree to sleep in before he headed back to Whiterun. He just needed to find a good tree. The tundra had sparse trees that were wind whipped with spindly branches. There were a few copses of proud pine trees dotted here and there. He needed to find one such place in the dark. It was far more difficult than it seemed.

Suddenly his ears twitched. He heard the slightest rustle in the grass not consistent with the rustling of the wind. Chaffed fingers ran over the string of his bow he still held at the ready. He had relied on his twin blades so much since he acquired them that the calluses had disappeared. All this recent use was re-cutting them back onto his hands. The process was not comfortable and aching fingers were distracting. Not quite as distracting as the headache throbbing in tandem with his heartbeat but a very close second. 

A giant rat leaped out of the grass at him, enormous front teeth bared.

Oh no. No nononono. He did NOT DO RATS! Rats were disgusting little creatures. Every since he was a small child he had harbored a special fear and hatred for rats. They were filthy, disease-ridden, vicious things. They would ambush anything that came near their dens or warrens, sometimes in staggering numbers. It was bad enough that one would pop out of tall grass but when several came flying out, there could be some serious trouble. They were quick and could get several bites in before being killed. The bites more often then not would become infected. Nevano had seen people with entire missing limbs when infection had eaten away everything down to the bone. Worst-case scenario was the victim would contract Ataxia, which caused the muscles to stiffen up. If left untreated, Ataxia would paralyze every muscle in the body, including the heart and lungs. Nevano had had Ataxia before. It had been the fourth most uncomfortable thing he had ever gone through. Oh, and rats also carried Blood Lung, Break Bone Fever, Feeble Limb, Red Rage, Rust Chancre, Shakes, Witbane and Witless Pox. Nevano knew every disease a rat could spread. It didn’t matter that he could never catch any of those diseases anymore, he didn’t want to be anywhere near a creature that could carry THAT many diseases at once. 

Which meant that if he didn’t have to hang around and actually kill the nasty little things, he would run. Rats gave him the shivers. More than once his guild mates had scared him completely up a tree by throwing a dead rat at him. Nope. He wasn’t doing this. He was gone. Running blindly across the pitch-black tundra, praying to Azura that he wouldn’t trip over a root or hole and slam head first into rock…again. But tripping and falling in the dark was far more preferable to facing a rat in the dark. Nevano would never admit to being afraid of rats, he had too much pride for that…but every time he saw a giant rat he had flashbacks to being trapped in a cave and picked at by a pack of rats. It was a nightmare that he never could shake. 

The tree found him rather than the other way around. One moment he was running, the next he was trying his hardest to not scream Dunmeri curses into the night sky as his nose joined his head in near unbearable throbbing pain. At this point, his pride was as bruised as it had ever been. He was a seasoned warrior but he was just getting beat up like he did when he was a new boot. It was…highly embarrassing even though there was no one there to witness this humiliation. Nevano crawled up the tree, feeling beaten and just overall miserable. He finally found a sturdy branch and was able to relax, his head thudding against the bark. He was fully aware of the irony of a Dunmer being more comfortable in a tree than on the ground but with a giant rat wandering around below he simply did not care. Slowly his body relaxed as exhaustion overtook him. 

XxXxXx

Images swirled through his head. Erratic at first but slowly they coalesced into a vivid dream that Nevano could make sense of. He was in midair, being pulled along as if hauled by an invisible rope. Snowy Skyrim landscape flashed by, rugged yet gorgeous. There was a lot of snow, more snow than he had ever seen in his life, entirely too much snow. Fortunately whatever was pulling his conscious along wasn’t forcing him to go through the snow, nor feel the cold. The land fell away to ice covered ocean. Very quickly he was pulled beyond even a horker’s swim range. He had no idea why he was being pulled out to sea like this but he was more curious than afraid. The ice on the water was slowly being replaced by something else in the water. He was moving far too quickly to pinpoint exactly what it was but it got thicker as he went along. The air changed too. The crisp, clear air of Skyrim was getting thicker. His nose could never forget that smell, thick fiery and powerful. Red Mountain. It was ash in the water, ash from Red Mountain. 

Suddenly he came upon an island. A small village with familiar Dunmer style dwellings on it sat on the coast. A great wall stood between the tiny village and the rest of the island. It should have been a rather nice little ocean side village but a dark cloud that he could sense rather than see hung over the island. Something wasn’t right. 

Solstheim has not prospered as of late. 

He felt the words more than heard the words. Solstheim. No wonder it looked familiar. He hadn’t been there in a long time but as soon as the name entered his head he could pick out things he recognized. Last he had heard the Nords had given it over to the Dunmer after years of arguing. This had to be Raven Rock. He didn’t recognize it at first because it was covered in ash. Last time he had been here it had been a snow covered brand new Imperial settlement for the East Empire Company, barely more than a handful of tents around a hole leading to the ebony mine.

The presence that had pulled him all this way enveloped him, holding him close. Roses. He could smell roses. Their perfume hung in a cloud around him, engulfing him in an embrace. Azura, goddess of dawn and dusk. After a long silence that made him think she had abandoned him totally, she had returned to his dreams. Despite the fact that every time she spoke to him he ended up doing something incredibly insane and crazy, he just felt better knowing she was still there. 

The Empire is waning. A new dawn is on the horizon. 

As suddenly as she had claimed him, she released him. The rest of his dreams spun out in the utter nonsense but the lingering scent of roses stayed with him. He slept on as the northern lights spun out through the night sky, far more relaxed than he usually did while in a tree and far more peacefully than he had since he had stepped foot in Skyrim. He didn’t wake up until the light of dawn hit his face. When he did, the faint smell of roses still hung in the air. So, Azura not only approved of his being here, but she had something in mind for him. For once, that didn’t bother him. In fact, he was looking forward to it. He just hoped the deadric prince was patient enough to allow him time to find Truefire and Hopesflame. 

A soft rustle made him look up. On a branch not too far above him was a bird nest. A hawk was landing with food for its voracious chicks. The hawk took a moment to consider the Dunmer sharing a tree with its nest. Gold eyes met gold eyes. Then the hawk’s attention was diverted back to the task of ripping meat off its prey and feeding the squawking young, not giving the strange creature in its tree another thought. Nevano smiled as he extracted himself from the tree, careful not to disturb the birds further. 

The hawk was feeding its chicks a giant rat. 

XxXxXx

Nevano placed the fragment on the table in front of Kodlak Whitemane without a word, watching the old warrior’s face slowly transform from surprise to well pleased. It was a very subtle shift, barely more than a slight crinkle of a smile barely visible through his beard. His eyes, however, spoke of something else, something Nevano had been hoping for; trust. The man finally held a semblance of trust for the mer. 

“I’m sure this was not easy to get.” He said with a small smile. 

“I prefer to think of it as an introductory to Skyrim’s local monsters.” Nevano said, “The…draugr? That I didn’t expect.”

“Ah yes. The draugr are ancient Nordic warriors. Many were followers of the Dragon Priests in the ancient times.” Kodlak explained, “When the priests died, their followers were ceremoniously killed, reanimated and sealed in the tombs so they could protect the tombs from intruders as well as continue to worship the Dragon Priests. Many draugr were also set to guard the tombs of nobility or the treasure of kings. They are highly alert to any sort of intrusion into their domain. They never wander from their barrows so no one thinks much of it other than children’s stories to make naughty children mind.”

“They come in varying strengths I discovered.” Nevano had to admit he was greatly curious. It was so similar to the Dunmer practice of tomb protection. “The one that was guarding the fragment was very powerful. It…shouted some sort of spell. I thought my head was going to split in half.” Nevano felt a warning twinge of pain in his head just remembering. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me that some of the more powerful draugr would still retain their powers from the past.” Kodlak ran a hand over his beard, “Just like warriors in life, with varying levels of skill and talent.”

“There was another surprise in that cave.” Nevano sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, “A few rather hostile mercenaries. Extremely paranoid. They were muttering quite a bit about werewolves.”

“The Silver Hand.” Kodlak sighed. Suddenly the old man no longer looked like a powerful wolf. The strength and vitality seemed to drain from him. He looked every bit his age; stoop shouldered and weary. “A group of zealots.”

“I think they are a bit more than that.” Nevano said but the fire was gone. At first he had planned on carefully placed accusations to squeeze an outright confession that there indeed were werewolves among the Companions, just to hear the confirmation of what he already knew, but seeing the old man just look so defeated made him feel…bad. “I understand hidden motivations. Everyone has them. As long as I’m not going to get eaten or, most of all, bitten during our dealings with one another I promise not to bury a silver dagger in someone’s eye.”

“You…are the most unusual elf.” Kodlak studied him carefully, “Not many, especially an outsider, would just accept this. But, no, you will not be bitten or eaten. We truly are honorable members of society, carrying on the traditions of the Five Hundred Companions, of Ysgramor. This…curse was a trick that befell us a long time ago. I’ve been trying to find a way to eliminate this taint from our order.”

“Well if you ever come up with the answer I’ll gladly lend a sword in helping you.”

“An honorable offer.” 

“I’m not offering it for the Companions. Some of them have embraced the beast.” Nevano distinctly remembered those predatory eyes searching for any sign of weakness in him, “However, I can see that it’s important to you and you have offered to help. From what I’ve seen of this rather savage land, that means quite a bit.”

“Definitely an unusual dark elf.” Kodlak laughed a bit, “Well I wish I could have been more help to you. Granted it has only been a few days but none of my usually reliable sources of information have heard a thing about your weapons. As unique as they are any sort of information would have stood out.”

This was what Nevano had been afraid of. 

“Since you have…hinted at our secret, I must ask you about one of yours.” Kodlak pulled a book out of a shelf behind him. “Athis has been going on and on about a ring of yours. I must say it piqued my curiosity. Not many here have a great interest in history, outside the history of the Companions, and they carry even less interest in the lore of the dark elves. But you…you are unique. There’s far more to you than a simple traveler who got caught at the border. Many people have come through these halls, some highly respected warriors, and many were civilians. None of them have had the insight that you have shown nor the fortitude. You went through Dustman’s Cairn by yourself. Not even the best warriors here would do that.”

Nevano finally smiled. So he had been right all along. The wolf was far more than he appeared. Instead of relying purely on the brute strength and savagery that came with the beast blood, he still relied on the things that made him human: his mind. 

“Only one ring fits that description.” Kodlak held up a book. Nerevar Moon-and-Star. Nevano snorted a bit. Oh he was very familiar with that book. Caius Cosades had made him read that book, along with several others, until he was satisfied that Nevano was intimately familiar with the Chimer general. There had been several arguments over that. Actually, Nevano had done nothing but argue with the spymaster. He rather missed their lively debates. 

“That’s because there’s only one ring like it.” Nevano held out his right hand, revealing his ring One-Clan-Under-Moon-And-Star. “This ring once belonged to Nerevar. Now it belongs to me.”

“So Athis wasn’t just running his mouth. You are the Nerevarine.”

“I am.” There. He finally admitted it. For the first time in years he was finally able to say it out loud. “Most Dunmer don’t get excited over nothing. He saw my ring and knew exactly who I was. But what I used to be doesn’t matter right now.”

“Who we are, and who we were, always matter.” Kodlak interrupted, “You might not think so, but it IS who you are. Don’t deny what you are…it’ll always come back.”

That hit Nevano like a physical blow. Those words were echoing in his mind, except the voice in his head was that of Modryn’s. It was one of the last lessons he had gotten from Modryn. He had been going back and forth between Cyrodiil and Morrowind and the constant traveling and constant stream of problems people wanted him to solve had been wearing him down. It was the first time the thought of running away from all that had entered his mind. It hadn’t been a rebuke, but a firm reminder that no matter how much he had been through, it defined who he was now. He had forgotten that…and had forgotten that lesson. By Azura how could he forget that?

“You should talk to Jarl Balgruuf.” Kodlak’s voice broke through his reverie, “He might have more information than I can provide.”

Nevano nodded, “Thank you, Kodlak.”

“I should be thanking you. Good luck on your quest.”

Nevano left Jorrvaskr and turned to look up at Dragonsreach. He had plenty of daylight left to go up and plead his case to the Jarl. But to be honest, getting a hot meal at the Bannered Mare sounded far more appealing. That and he wanted to get to know Saadia a bit better. And test the structural integrity of the beds. 

XxXxXx

The next morning Nevano made his way to Dragonsreach. He had spent all night with Saadia and a set aside a little bit of time to ask her about the Jarl. She had warned him than Jarl Balgruuf was an impatient man, but cared greatly for the people in his hold. He wasn’t particularly worried about that. He had faced far more intimidating leaders. King Hlaalu Helseth instantly came to mind. That had been a very nerve wracking experience. He rather doubted he could find a Jarl here who was as conniving as that particular fetcher. Still he wouldn’t let his guard down. He didn’t want to be sent into a draugr-ridden hole again. He had had his fill of that particular brand of adventure to last his whole visit in Skyrim.

As he walked up the steps to the keep a young Nord came galloping up the stairs behind him, nearly knocking him into the stream that ran alongside the staircase. Nevano nearly snapped off a rude retort when the kid spun around to apologize. His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. That was a familiar face, with bright green eyes framed by scraggly brown hair. A face he didn’t expect to see again. 

“My apologies…Hey I didn’t expect to see you here!” Yup, that was the same kid alright. The same goofy boy who had escaped Helgen with him. Nevano couldn’t remember his name or why he had been arrested. He did remember that he wasn’t a part of that Stormcloak rebellion thing. He was just a goofy kid with a happy outlook on life, much like a puppy. Nevano was happy to see that. Belatedly he realized that the Nord was already telling him all that had transpired recently.

“Well…this whole dragon thing is a mystery. No one knows WHY they’re coming back. Dragons were supposed to be dead and gone for thousands of years.” The young Nord explained, “So I decided to help. I mean, I can’t just let dragons destroy all of Skyrim. Remember those creepy looking ruins we saw after we escaped from Helgen? I was asked to go in there and find this…map thing. I was told it would help figure things out with the dragons. Not sure how though...I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You went into a barrow on your own?” Nevano asked, “Oh so you CAN fight after all?”

Nevano laughed as he watched the young Nord stutter. In Helgen his performance had been…short of amazing. Nevano gave him a break in that Helgen had been stressful and he was pretty certain everyone had been in shock but when your life was on the line, you better fight like hell. He was glad to hear that this kid could fight and survive. Bleak Falls Barrow…even the NAME sounded horrible. He had found unpleasantness in a hole in the ground. He didn’t want to think what kind of undead surprises were in that massive tomb. 

“At least you changed out of that Imperial armor crap.”

“You don’t like the empire?” Nevano caught the tiny edge in his voice. It wasn’t suspicion, more like he sounded heartbroken. Poor kid…he had no idea. 

“The empire and I have been at odds for a very, very long time.” Nevano said, “This latest insult was just one more in a long line of irritation. But I said that because their armor and weapons are always crap. They give armor smiths massive orders at the last possible second. Even the best smith in Nirn can’t make quality weapons that fast in that vast amount. I could split that armor or chip an Imperial sword with something made by a Dunmer apprentice playing with cheap iron. So yeah…you shed that Imperial crap.”

“Oh, well yeah I did.” The young Nord looked down at his steel armor. He simply could not keep up with the Dunmer, “I see you found your armor too.”

“The armor yes.” Nevano nodded, “But my swords are still missing. Irreplaceable. I’m still looking for the thief.”

“Well Balgruuf will know. He’s a good man, a strong warrior.” Nevano shook his head as the Nord bounced off up the stairs like a little kid. These Nords…always judging others based on their status as a warrior. Apparently brains meant nothing. Humans...

XxXxXx

Nevano wasn’t so sure how he ended up jogging down the road alongside an over enthusiastic Nord boy, a few soldiers and the Jarl’s…housecarl? He couldn’t remember if he heard that right or not. That wasn’t a title he was familiar in addressing to another Dunmer. He wasn’t sure how he got roped into helping but now he was headed out to a watchtower to go kill a dragon. At least that’s what they were told they were going to do. He had seen what a dragon could do. He wasn’t overly optimistic about their chances. But that boy was just so damned positive about the whole thing that every fetcher in the room believed him when he said they would kill it. So, like everyone else, Nevano found himself agreeing. This…was bull netch crap. 

“The tower! It’s on fire! Look at the smoke!”

Nevano snarled to himself, desperately wanted to tell the idiot soldier that, of course the damn tower was on fire! There was a dragon that could breath FIRE flying around somewhere. Did he expect to find the dragon curled up like a dog on the ground just waiting for them, wagging its tail and wanting to play fetch with a tree? 

Just then a soldier staggered up, his tabard still smoking. “Dragon! It destroyed the tower and killed everyone and just flew off!”

“Alright everyone, this is it.” Irileth, the housecarl, said, rolling her shoulders, “Stay alert. When we get to the tower, search for survivors. I doubt the dragon is gone for good.”

Again Nevano wondered just what was wrong with him that he was STILL going along with this insane plan. They were willingly walking into a destroyed tower where a dragon was actively stalking, looking for man to kill…or eat. Did dragons eat people? They had to eat something. Any flying lizard that big obviously had to have a big appetite and humans were pretty numerous, not to mention a lot slower and easier to catch than most of the wildlife around here. Yup, they were all going to get eaten. 

The tower was, as the soldier proclaimed it to be, destroyed. Much like the structures in Helgen, the heat from the dragon’s breath had disintegrated much of the mortor, causing the entire structure to be compromised. Massive chunks were knocked clean off the tower from either a massive tail slamming into it or a dragon attempting to use the tower as a scratching post. Anything that was even slightly flammable was burning merrily, a stark contrast to the carnage of burning bodies all around. Some bodies were even bitten in half, entrails strewn everywhere. Nevano wrinkled his nose as the stench of burning flesh hit his nose. Even worse was the heavy musk of dragon bearing down on him.

“Dragon! DRAGON!!”

The dragon had been stalking them, probably since they had left Whiterun’s gates. It swooped up from the south, using the smoke to cover its approach as it bore down on them with all its scaly fury, waiting until the last moment to roar in their faces, scaring the soldiers and deafening those with heightened hearing. It was so close Nevano could smell death on its breath. 

“Make every arrow count! We’ve got to get it out of the sky!” Irileth shouted above the rush of dragon wings.

Nevano wasn’t so sure what that would accomplish. Yes, that would put the dragon within melee strike range, but that would put the melee fighters within range of slashing claws, swinging tail, fire breath and, let’s not forget, really big biting jaws. This dragon was big enough that he could easily bite a man, or mer, in half with one bite, even with armor on. Judging by the bulge in its abdomen, it had already done so once or twice. Dragons did eat people after all. On the other hand, he could see the point of getting the dragon on the ground; no more fire breath from above and swords stood a better chance of getting through those scales. 

All the archers were firing at the dragon, striking it mostly in the belly. Their training dictated they fire at the largest body mass. However, the dragon’s belly was covered in thick nearly impenetrable scales. Already it’s underside was peppered with arrows, making it look like an upside down porcupine. The dragon didn’t seem to even notice the arrows. That needed to change. 

Nevano ran through the newly set fires, ignoring the heat. Fire didn’t bother him very much. He was a Dunmer after all; fire ran through his veins as hot as Red Mountain. He picked a massive chunk of burning debris, the wooden support beams still poking out of the stones. It was the perfect vantage point. He leaped up on it and pulled out the Bonebiter bow. All he needed was one shot. He knocked an arrow and waited for the dragon to bank in a turn, exposing his target. He didn’t have to wait long. 

The single arrow flew through the air and lodged itself perfectly in the joint of the wing right next to the back. The satisfying crack of massive bones snapping echoed through the air, quickly followed by the dragon’s bellow of pain. The wing crumpled and the dragon tumbled out of the sky, desperately trying to right itself but with no joint to support the wing it didn’t stand a chance. 

Nevano was thrown from his perch as the force of the dragon crash landing caused the ground to shudder in protest. He landed hard on his left shoulder in the rubble and felt something crack. White-hot pain shot through his arm. Desperately he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. He had just brought a dragon to the ground. He didn’t need to alert the now very angry dragon that he was on the ground and injured. It was smarter to just stay down at this point. It was the other’s turn to do something useful. 

Cracking one gold eye open he could see his young Nord friend leaping right at the dragon’s head, axe swinging. Funny, he realized, he never once stopped to get this kid’s name. And here he was, swinging an axe at a dragon, scoring a strike every time. The dragon, already distracted and infuriated, thrashed desperately, snapping and clawing at air. It couldn’t seem to land a single blow. Blow after blow rained down on its head, the axe cutting through the scales and tearing its vulnerable eyes and snout. The Whiterun soldiers were hardly even a consideration; it swatted them over with one swipe of its mighty tail. No, it was just this one persistent warrior it couldn’t seem to shake that was its concern. In desperation it opened its mouth, gathering energy for one last breath.

But it was too little too late. Nevano watched in absolute fascination as the stupid fetcher jumped ON TOP of the dragon’s head and, bellowing an impressive war cry, buried his axe into the dragon’s skull. It drove in deep, through broken scales, through bone, deep into the brain. Blood and bits of scales flew everywhere as the Nord chopped down again and again. The dragon gave one last faltering bellow before all strength left its limbs. It collapsed, blood drenched tongue lolling from its steaming jaws. 

All was silent for a several seconds but it seemed to stretch on forever. Nevano couldn’t believe he had just seen the goofy kid he had escaped from Helgen with jump on an Oblivion-be-damned dragon and kill it. He KILLED a DRAGON. Nevano was…incredibly impressed. 

The dragon’s body burst into flames, rapidly disintegrating down to the bone. Then something swirled from the smoking corpse, surrounding the Nord warrior, sinking into his flesh. Everyone stood watching in utter disbelief, the soldiers all had their jaws hanging open. 

“Did you…just take its SOUL?!”

“I don’t believe it. You’re Dragonborn!”

“I can’t believe my eyes!”

Nevano tuned out the rest of the banter, watching the Nord. He was staring at the bones of the dragon, in just as much disbelief as everyone else. The mer recognized this scene. This was the pivotal point in fate. There was a reason why this kid, this sweet, goofy, enthusiastic kid, had survived. Not just survived, but thrived where others quailed in fear. He was chosen; he would be the hero Skyrim desperately needed. 

DOVAHKIIN!

The very air seemed to split apart as the command echoed down from the mountains. It brought the soldiers to their knees, the sheer power too much for mere mortals. Nevano recognized the power as very similar to what the draugr had used in Dustman’s Cairn. Unlike in Dustman’s Cairn, it didn’t send shockwaves through his head. It was massively powerful but the power was…not malicious. It was merely a call. Nevano smiled; it was calling to the newly minted hero. 

“Taking a nap on the job?” speaking of newly minted hero, he was standing over Nevano, giving him a grin that stood out starkly white against his ash marred skin. 

“You know us Dunmer. Nords being set on fire, nothing to see here might as well take a nap.” Nevano deadpanned, “I figured I did my bit by bringing that winged nuisance to the ground. You handled the rest just fine without me. Not sure what you expected me to do once it was on the ground; smack it on the snout with my bow and tell it to behave like it was a naughty child?”

He laughed and held out a hand to pull the mer to his feet. Nevano winced as his shoulder sent hot stabs of pain through his whole upper body as he was hauled up. 

“What did you do to your shoulder? I can see it swelling through your armor.”

“I have a bad shoulder. It’ll be fine in a few days.” 

“Well, let’s go back to Whiterun and tell the jarl what happened!” the young man was practically bouncing in place, transforming from the warrior who had just killed a dragon and absorbed its soul to the goofy kid that Nevano had seen running off with the fairy tale thought of being a hero in his head, “These things can be killed! We can win this!”

Nevano smiled, remembering another piece of wisdom Modryn had imparted to him, “If it can bleed, it can die.”

“Jarl Balgruuf will be happy to know that!”

Nevano gave wry smile. “You know…stupid thought at a very stupid time but you know, I never got your name.”

“Heh, I never got yours either.” The boy rubbed at his neck sheepishly, “I’m Gunjar.”

“Nevano.”

“C’mon, we need to get back to Whiterun!” Nevano watched wearily as Gunjar took off at a run. Did that kid not WALK anywhere?!

XxXxXx 

There were plenty of bad habits that Nevano had picked up over the years. Not fully paying attention during lengthy conversations was near the top of the list. It had gotten him in trouble many times but he couldn’t help it. Lengthy talks bored him. Thus Nevano didn’t pay particularly close attention to Gunjar’s and Balgruuf’s conversation. He caught bits and pieces, heard something about the Greybeards that lived at the top of the Throat of the World. He also heard that Gunjar might be something called the Dragonborn and that the word they had heard echoing through the sky, Dovahkiin, was the Greybeards commanding Gunjar to climb up the mountain. He saw the flash of doubt and fear in Gunjar’s eyes be taken over by the warrior’s determination. The boy was growing up quickly…and Nevano knew that the next time he saw Gunjar, that inner child would be completely gone. For some reason that made him incredibly sad. Granted he knew that that would probably save Gunjar’s life but to lose that innocence was a loss that could never be recovered. 

Once again, his bad habit got him in trouble. Nevano never noticed everyone’s attention suddenly turn towards him until the Jarl spoke to him. 

“And you…the men were telling me you were the one that shot the dragon out of the sky. Is that true?” 

“It is.” And the reason he never bothered to fix his attention issue was because he almost always recovered quickly enough that no one noticed…or cared to notice. 

“With one shot?” Balgruuf sounded impressed but it was tempered. 

“The soldiers were shooting at the largest body mass. That dragon’s scales are thicker than dwarven armor.” Nevano said, “So I shot at the wing joint. It doesn’t improve the thing’s mood once it hits the ground though.”

“I’d say not.” Balgruuf looked the Dunmer over, “Your accent isn’t like the Dunmer who live around here. You are not another Morrowind refugee?”

“Cyrodiil. I was caught at the border with Gunjar.” Nevano couldn’t stop his distaste from entering his tone, “I simply crossed the border and the Imperials wanted to put my head on a pike.”

“The soldiers always have their reasons.” The weedy man to the left of the jarl started to pipe up but Nevano cut him off.

“I understand border patrol but I’ve been crossing borders all across Tamriel for a long time and never once have had this issue. It’s a bad day in the Empire when innocent citizens can’t travel across her without being in fear for their lives from Imperial soldiers. Are they going to protect citizens or are they going to slaughter every innocent who is in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Enough.” Balgruuf interrupted them, “Proventus this is an argument for another time. As for you…it seems the gods have something in mind for you yet to spare you along with our young friend here. I don’t know quite how to reward you for helping save Whiterun from that dragon.”

“Information.” Nevano said, “I had two swords stolen from me in Helgen. I’m simply looking for any information I can follow to get them back.”

“Not sure what information would be helpful.” Balgruuf frowned, “There were very few survivors from Helgen. There were maybe one or two civilians and a handful of soldiers that were outside the village walls. However I have received word that General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak both escaped Helgen. Other than that I can’t think of who else would have managed to escape other than you two.”

“Wait! Wasn’t that Thalmor elf there too?” Gunjar spoke up suddenly, “When the prisoner carts first arrived in Helgen we saw that Thalmor with General Tullius. That Stormcloak soldier was complaining about them, remember?” 

“The Thalmor were there?” Balgruuf frowned even more, “That had to Elenwen. If Tullius had captured Ulfric then she was sure to be there with him. Slippery bitch. She would have escaped and cover it up so that it would seem like she was never there.”

Nevano remained silent but was seething inside. He rather doubted Tullius would have taken the time to order his men to go through the chest, not while the prisoners were still alive anyway. It would have been an order for later. Ulfric he definitely counted out. The man had been a prisoner and had been looking to get away just as much as Nevano had been. That left one. The one faction on this planet that Nevano hated the most had gotten their hateful little paws on his swords. 

The Thalmor had Truefire and Hopesflame.

XxXxXx


	8. Ashes to Ashes

Chapter 7

Ashes to Ashes

XxXxXx

3E 427

Red Mountain

It was unbelievably hot in Dagoth Ur’s Citadel, almost too hot for Nevano to take. Each breath of heated air and ash seared his throat. He had been wandering around Red Mountain for days and already he barely recognized his own voice. Not that he heard it much. He was the only mostly sane creature in the entire area. Red Mountain was crawling with all sorts of deadra, corprus monsters and ash creatures. He didn’t even bother to count the rats and cliff racers. Normally he hated and feared rats but after wading through a sea of corprus beasts and dodging the spells of ash monsters…they suddenly weren’t scary anymore. But that was the effect Red Mountain had; you turned into a creature merely bent on survival. Things that used to scare you no longer did. He was numb to the part of his brain that gave him a sense of humanity. 

He was coated in a thick layer of ash that mixed with his sweat and turned into a second skin of mud he was pretty certain would turn to concrete when it dried. Several injuries that were pretty serious lay hidden under the ash layer. He hadn’t slept in days. He had already gone through Citadels Vemynal and Odrosal, already recovered Sunder and Keening. All that was left was to destroy the heart and destroy Dagoth Ur himself, all while being a bloody mess. Adding to the injuries and exhaustion was the constant taunting by Dagoth Ur, calling him Nerevar, inviting him as a friend. Nevano’s head was swimming, his nerves completely shot. Nerevar, Nevano…he had no idea WHO he was anymore. He was merely a body that had been thrown onto the playing board by both the empire and false gods to see what would happen. They were merely curious at the outcome. They didn’t care what happened to the pawn. 

Nevano went through the halls almost in a trance. He could hear whispers and maniacal laughter hidden in the walls. Sometimes he caught himself muttering along with it. Was that laughter his? He could envision ash monsters materializing from the floors. Through the shimmering heat waves he had a hard time telling if the monsters he saw were real or not. Sometimes they weren’t real. Sometimes they were merely images his brain had conjured. Sometimes it was some inanimate object, like the chairs there oddly stacked in the middle of a room. Sometimes they were real and launched themselves at him. He would avoid the over-grown slashing nails and the occasional destruction spell to bury his sword in a throat or chest. His bowstring had long since snapped thanks to a lucky strike from a cliff racer’s claws. The arrows he had dumped a long time ago but the bow he kept with him. He just couldn't bring himself to dump Sul-Senipal’s Bonebiter bow. 

Dagoth Ur was…not what he expected. After all the twisted minions he had seen, the Dunmer with the missing crucial facial features, the horribly bloated and malformed bodies of corprus beasts and the deformed faces of the Ash Vampires, Dagoth Ur seemed almost…normal. Granted his nails were hugely, grossly, overgrown into talons and that mask was terrifying purely because Nevano had no idea what it was hiding. He also wasn’t expecting the civil conversation they had. It was so normal it actually hurt his head. He didn’t regain any mental footing when a single strike from his sword after their little talk made Dagoth Ur disappear. No body just...poof. The door opening to his left did nothing to reassure him. That door led to the heart chamber. He knew it did. He desperately didn’t want to go through that door. Dagoth Ur had merely transported himself to the heart chamber. The false god was waiting for him before unleashing the full force of his power on the reluctant hero. But it had to be done. The heart had to be destroyed. Taking a deep breath, Nevano went through the door.

“What a fool you are. I’m a god, how can you kill a god?” Dagoth Ur charged Nevano, slashing at him with those grossly huge talons, “What a grand and intoxicating innocent. How can you be so naïve? There is no escape. No recall or intervention can work in this place. Come, lay down your weapons, it is not too late for my mercy!”

“NO!” Nevano screamed, raising his sword in defense to ward off the ash vampires that leaped in to attack along with their master, “I will NEVER surrender! I have had ENOUGH! You will DIE!”

Just behind Dagoth Ur Nevano could see a ledge with a pathway leading down. Towering above was a massive brass skeleton, the remains of Akulakhan, the brass god that Dagoth Ur had built to wipe Morrowind clean. The heart had to be at the base, powering the thing. He knew what he had to do. 

Nevano dove through the mass of ash vampires, acquiring new gouges from talons, and ran straight for the ledge, holding tightly onto the amulet he had gotten from Tel Vos. He leaped off the ledge and, as he plummeted down towards the pool of lava at the bottom, he activated the amulet. Air suddenly became as solid as the earth beneath his feet, halting his fall. He scrambled, clawing his way through the air towards the heart. He could see it, pulsing hotly, surrounded by tubes and wires as it fed Akulakhan. The very air around it shimmered with untold power, calling to him, trying to tempt him. He wanted nothing to do with it. Power was as unappealing to him as rotten fruit. As he got closer he kept repeating to himself, “Once with Sunder, then with Keening, once with Sunder, then with Keening.” Over and over again. He shoved his right hand into Wraithguard where it hung on his belt, reaching for Sunder where it hung heavy on his back. “Once with Sunder…”

He expected the heart to be soft. He expected it to squish beneath the powerful strike from Sunder but the hammer instead vibrated like it had struck stone, nearly causing him to drop the dwarven tool. He heard howls and shrieks behind him and knew the ash vampires were running down the path towards him. He had no time to lose. Switching the hammer out for Keening he struck. 

“What are you doing?”

When earth is sundered, and skies chocked black, and sleepers serve the seven curses, to the hearth there comes a stranger, journeyed far ‘neath moon and star.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Though stark-born to sire uncertain, his aspect marks his certain fate. Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him. Prophets speak, but all deny.

“FOOL!”

Many trials make manifest the stranger’s fate, the curses’ bane. Many touchstones try the stranger. Many fall, but one remains.

“STOP!”

As the final hit struck the heart, Nevano was knocked back as an explosion of energy made the entire cavern shake. He had done it. The heart was destroyed.

“What have you done?” Dagoth Ur had materialized right behind Nevano, watching as the cavern shook and trembled, the tubes and wires that fed Akulakhan exploding off the giant brass frame. Centuries and centuries of plotting and planning and building were falling down around him in a matter of seconds. 

Nevano turned to try to run. All around him, the cavern was collapsing. Giant pieces of the ceiling were falling down, taking everything in their path down into the lava pool below. He needed to get off this rock bridge and to the safety of the ledge, away from the falling rocks. Survival instincts took over everything. But Dagoth Ur had other ideas. Driven mad by the sudden loss of divinity, by the sudden failure of thousands of years of planning and plotting, there was no survival instinct. There was only rage, a primal raw rage that was focused on the scared young mer in front of him. Like a wild animal, Dagoth Ur descended on Nevano and bit down. The young mer screamed as ragged teeth sank into his shoulder right next to his neck. Like a dog with a rat, he was shook until the entire chunk of his flesh was worried free. He fell back against the heart pedestal, grabbing at the gaping wound, blood spurting between his fingers. He looked up and saw a rock falling right to Dagoth Ur.

“This is the end. The bitter, bitter end.”

Nevano turned away as the rock crushed Dagoth Ur to death. He didn’t need to watch. There had been enough death and destruction that he didn’t want to see the final act that would end it all. He just wanted to get out. That amulet of levitation once again earned its keep, getting him out of the way of the still falling rocks and up onto the ledge. The ash vampires had already fled, screeching and screaming and alerting every monster left within the citadel.

Nevano lay on the ledge, shaking and panting, one hand clamped to his shoulder. He could feel blood running out under his fingers from the crater in his flesh but it was no longer spurting in tandem with his heartbeat. As his adrenaline faded the pain started to make itself known in short sudden bursts. Soon he knew it wouldn’t fade. The little lightning bolts that jerked through his arms were just the beginning of the hell that awaited him. He needed to go now before the pain made it impossible to get up and leave. He needed to get to Ghost Gate. 

“Let’s go lad.” Nevano was positive there was no one else in the cavern with him other than very angry ash beasts. But that voice didn’t echo through the cavern…it echoed only in his head. It was also distinctly a language he had never heard before but somehow he could understand every word perfectly, “You did good. Let’s get you home.”

Strength not his pulled him to his feet. It was the strangest feeling, like he was not in control of his body, like someone else was pulling him up and supporting him, despite the fact that no one was there. But the voice said one thing that he had been desperate to hear since he first arrived in Morrowind; “Let’s get you home”.

Many fall, but one remains.

XxXxXx

4E 211

Raven Rock 

Councilor Lleril Morvayn read over the letter from the mainland. It had come along with the last ship but was heavily encrypted, taking him the better part of the last few days to decipher the letter. It was definitely highly unusual for the other councilors of House Redoran to be requesting his presence and even more unusual for them to request every councilor to be present. The letter was horribly vague but he had heard enough over the past year that he had a pretty good idea what was going to happen. None of it boded well. 

Captain Veleth walked in, brushing ash off his armor. Perfect, just the mer he wanted to see.

“My influence doesn’t reach that far beyond Solstheim, especially with the ebony mines the way they are.” Councilor Morvayn spoke frankly. It was no huge secret that with the ebony mines closed they were in dire straights but it still rankled him that their lives suddenly meant so much less because of it, especially in the eyes of their own kin. “So when I get a letter requesting my presence in Blacklight by the rest of the councilors of House Redoran, I know it’s something of grave importance. Only once before has House Redoran requested all its councilors together and that was during the Argonian invasion.”

Captain Veleth stayed standing at attention and silent. He was very well aware of all this. 

“I’m requesting you accompany me to Blacklight.”

“I beg your pardon?” Veleth was not the most demonstrative mer but the councilor could easily read the surprise and shock in his ruby eyes.

“Veleth you are the only one here with an idea of what’s going on and not just on Raven Rock.” The Redoran councilor gave him a small smile, “I’m well aware that your father keeps you updated. As… interesting as your father is, I respect his intuition. He came from a time where having a good sense of which way the wind blew was vital to survival. I know he’s passing that on to you and that is the reason I wish for you to go with me to Blacklight.”

“I’m not sure leaving Raven Rock is…”

“You’ve been training those men for years.” The councilor intercepted him, “I know you well enough to know you’ve trained up a few to act in your place in case multiple points of the village had to be protected at once. I’m positive they can keep Raven Rock safe for a while without you here.”

Captain Veleth nodded, “I will make the arrangements then. Blacklight is a dangerous city anyway.”

“Good.”

As Veleth left, Morvayn glanced at the letter once more. He was not asking Veleth to go with him as a bodyguard as Second Councilor Arano had requested and no doubt as Veleth himself believed. No, he wanted Veleth to listen in, to know exactly what was going on. The captain came from a family who had a history of running into the right people at the right time and doing the right thing during moments of great crisis. For that reason he knew that Veleth was going to play a major part in all this before all was said and done. 

XxXxXx

Skyrim

Nevano didn’t go back to the Bannered Mare that night. His shoulder was still extremely painful and swollen, especially around the jagged scar next to his neck, but a restlessness had set in. He knew who had his swords and it was time to go after them. As was his custom, he simply left in the middle of the night. It used to infuriate his guild brothers and sisters but there wasn’t anyone here to upset. Maybe that’s why he wanted to leave so badly; he was so lonely in the middle of a city. It was much easier to be lonely in the middle of the wilderness than it was to be lonely surrounded by people. 

His destination was Solitude, clear across the continent. If there was any city in Tamriel he wanted to visit, it was Solitude. He had learned to read common by reading the Wolf Queen books. The War of the Red Diamond had completely fascinated him and now he was in the land where it all took place. He was half expecting skeletal servants to still be wandering around the city and for once he wouldn’t be bothered by that one bit. However he was pretty certain the Nords had done everything in their power to erase all evidence of Potema from the city. They highly revered powerful warriors and strong leaders but anything they considered dishonorable they were quick to bury in the snow. A treacherous bid for the crown and a war that brought the wrath of the empire on their heads qualified. The more he thought about it the more he wished he had a copy of the book to read. 

The sun was just beginning to rise, lightening up the sky to a pale purple with the twinkle of the stars still visible. He loved watching the dawn bloom in the sky. It was just magical. Suddenly he felt a twitch on his chest. He frowned. That was highly unusual. He usually felt twinges like this right before a panic attack but he hadn’t had one in days and his heart rate was still steady and not racing. The next twinge was no longer a twinge; it was like a knife to the chest. Searing pain shot through his chest like a lightning bolt, dropping him to his knees right there on the road. He screamed, clawing at his chest, writhing on the round as round after round of agonizing pain shook him to his very core. Blackness ringed the red haze of his vision. He didn’t care anymore, he just wanted the merciful release of unconsciousness to claim him and relieve the pain. 

The last thing he saw before he finally passed out was feet running towards him. 

XxXxXx


	9. Skeletal Remains

Chapter 8

 

XxXxXx

Ash still warm from the volcano swirled around him, sticking to his hair and eyelashes and settling in every tiny crevice in his armor. It was worse than sand. Sand would shake out but ash would cling and it if came in contact with the slightest bit of moisture it would melt into mud then harden into cement, coating the entire body in a cast. The Dunmer had adapted over the centuries to their ashy environment. Their bodies were able to process and dispose of the toxins in the ash, their eyelashes were longer than their kin, keeping ash away from their eyes. Many non-Dunmer had far more issues with the ash, especially during the ash storms. Many newcomers to Vvardenfell would fall ill after their first ash storm, some so severe that they would choose to leave soon after arriving. Their lungs simply couldn’t handle it. Vvardenfell was not a place for the weak. 

Nevano took a step forward, his bare feet shifting as he found sharp rocks through the layer of ash. He had no idea why Azura usually insisted he be minimally clothed during these so-called visions she put him through. Privately he felt she enjoyed the show. She was a deadra after all. 

He could smell an ash storm brewing. There were always signs; the air would go still and the world would take on a red hue. Wild creatures would take cover as the smell of burning tinged with rotten eggs would permeate the air. Then the wind would pick up, gentle at first, with just a few bits of ash floating along with it. It was the final warning, the final moments to take cover before the storm struck. Then the wind would take on a new fiery passion, sometimes driving the ash so hard it would sting all unprotected skin and could even cause damage to buildings. The ash would be so thick that only a red light from the sun managed to filter down, making the world seem like it was on fire. 

He had no idea where he was. The dusty ash was already billowing up, making everything seem far spookier than it actually was. He passed by several crumbling ruins, bricks falling out of plaster that had been blasted by harshly driven ash. He could see the massive build ups of ash leaned up against walls, hardened into concrete as layer pressed upon layer. He guessed he was in the remains of a village that had either been abandoned by its residents and reclaimed by the ash storms or the ash had forced the inhabitants out. It had happened to many small villages. But the more he walked through the wreckage, the more he realized this wasn’t a small village. The crumbled walls and outlines of buildings sprawled on and on. This was a good sizeable city, but what city?

His feet suddenly felt smooth rock laid out uniformly beneath the ash. With one foot he kicked away the ash to reveal a stone paved road. He…knew this road. Had run along it many times, balancing precariously so he wouldn’t fall…

…Into the Odai River. Nevano felt himself shaking as he saw the ash-choked river slog along in the canal. Balmora. He was in the ruins of Balmora, destroyed by the volcanic eruption. The foyada Mamaea had apparently served its purpose, keeping the flow of lava away from the city. Instead Balmora had been blasted by super heated ash blasting at incredible speeds down from the mountain. Nothing, not even the sturdy brick and mortar structures of the city, could have withstood that. Thus, the bones of the city, and all the unfortunate victims who couldn’t flee, were frozen in time beneath the ash. He knew about the Red Year, of course, but to actually see what it had done, especially to a city that had been very dear to him was overwhelming.

“The remains of Balmora. Remember it well, my champion.”

This time Azura spoke out loud, her voice making the very air shudder. Nevano winced as it made his head throb. He truly hated it when the deadra did that. Or when someone used a Thu’um. It always gave him a massive headache that took a full day or an incredible amount of alcohol to cure. 

Then he was in the air, being pulled up higher and higher. He could see the ash storm rolling in from the volcano, a plume of red ash, still hot. The ash storms, despite popular belief, were not the creation of Dagoth Ur. He had simply taken advantage of the natural occurrence to spread the Blight. The ash storms were purely a natural force, as destructive and occasionally deadly as a violent rainstorm in Anvil or a blizzard in Skyrim. He had once heard a kahjiit compare the ash storms to dust storms in Elsewhere. 

As he rose higher he saw something that gave him hope; further down the Odai river, after it started to flow clearer of ash, he saw structures, a city still being built. That had to be Balmora being rebuilt through the relief efforts of House Redoran. It had to be. 

“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

This time Azura’s voice echoed gently in his head. 

“Now wake up.”

The world began to spin, whirling around in a vortex that blended grey and red into one bland color.

“Wake up.”

Nevano tossed his head, the ash really clouding his senses and bothering him. Everything was muffled and dark. He couldn’t shake it off. 

“C’mon, you can do it. Open your eyes.”

Nevano’s eyes flew open in panic as hands struggled to keep him still. 

“Easy EASY! Lay back down, we aren’t trying to hurt you.” Slowly Nevano’s vision cleared and his brain caught up a robed figure swam into view. 

“There you go.” A breton man sat back as the mer in front of him settled down, “You were starting to fight us quite a bit there.”

Nevano looked around. He was lying on a bedroll, a fur blanket covering him to the waist. The hastily erected tent above his head swayed in the constant wind, always threatening but never quite falling over. From what he could see, his body seemed to be intact and he wasn’t being restrained in any way. Other than a lingering twinge in his chest he felt fine. 

“I was taking a few young students here to the College in Winterhold when we found you on the road. We were hoping you could tell us what happened.” The human explained a little shyly.

“I…have no idea.” Nevano shrugged, “I just remember my chest hurting so bad it just…dropped me. No warning, no reason for it to.”

“Hnn, well you don’t look old enough for a heart attack.” 

Nevano nearly laughed at that. Nearly. His chest was still sore and he didn’t want to aggravate that. Didn’t look old enough. Well, no he DIDN’T look that old. In fact he looked barely out of adolescence. But his youthful appearance did not match his actual age. His physical appearance and numerical age no longer had any congruence to each other. He was actually 240 years old, 241 in Heartfire. When Divayth Fyr poured that vile potion down his throat it not only halted all the negative effects of corprus but it also halted his age. He had been 33 years old at the time, young for a mer. He hadn’t physically aged a day since then. While being ageless had its drawbacks, he couldn’t complain too much; women had no idea he was over middle aged for a Dunmer. 

“No it wasn’t that.” Nevano shook his head, “It was like every muscle, starting in my chest, just seized up. I don’t know what caused it.”

“There’s not much I can do for you out here.” The mage poked at his chest, making him grunt, “Colette Marence is the restoration instructor at the college…actually I would recommend doubling back to Danica Pure-Spring in Whiterun. Far more adept at actually healing the wounded and far easier to get along with.”

“No, no…” Nevano forced himself to sit up. He hated healers and, especially the healers in Balmora and Chorrol, the healers hated him. Telis Salvani had been driven to near insanity with all the random injuries he had come in with that couldn’t be cured with a healing potion. In Chorrol, he had come in so often for stupid random injuries he actually made one new healer break down in tears. That had been a great day. Then Gureryne Selvilo had come in. He had caught on to Nevano’s tricks pretty quick and started to leave Nevano’s ears torn so his earrings wouldn’t stay in or threaten to learn alteration spells to start changing the color of his hair or skin. Fetcher. “I think I’ll be ok.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was headed to Solitude on an important mission. I really don’t want to delay more than I need to.”

“Tell you what. To make sure you don’t collapse again, why don’t you come with us on the road north? Then you can go west towards Solitude.”

Nevano considered this. That road would take him north of the mountain range he had originally intended to hike across the wilderness south of. It would be a much colder route but he could also help keep the mages safe from bandits and whatever else preyed upon travelers in Skyrim. He did owe them a debt of gratitude for taking care of him during…whatever that episode was. 

“I have to admit…if you’re good with that bow it would make me feel better. Skyrim is treacherous enough without having a group of easily scared students running in all directions when a saber cat attacks.”

Nevano smiled as he carefully pushed himself up and took his offered armor from the man, “I was in the Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil. I know how it goes with new boots. I need to ask though; what is a saber cat?”

“Ohh a newcomer eh?” the mage turned to put things back in a trunk, “Big cat with big fangs and an even bigger appetite. Mean things. You come across one of those they don’t hesitate to add you to the menu. Generally the wolves won’t bother a wagon with two big horses pulling it. The horses stomp them to death see. But when you get a big pack led by those white wolves? Then there’s trouble. Also got bears and trolls that make trouble. And bandits. Damn bandits. Thicker than mites on a bear’s ass.”

Nevano finished pulling his armor on, ignoring the disappointed noises from behind the tent. He thought he had heard feminine giggles earlier... “In other words, pests that you find all across Tamriel.”

“Correct!” the man waved his hands and the tent collapsed flew up and collapsed on itself, settling in the wagon nearby, “Oh, I’m Arniel Gane, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I’m a scholar of alteration in the College of Winterhold. Normally I don’t escort students like this but the arch mage himself asked me to.” 

“Nevano.” The Dunmer slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled his hood back over his head. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the same name as the Nerevarine?”

“My parents named me after him.” Nevano lied smoothly, “Not many people know his name. Kinda faded into history.”

“Faded into history?” Arniel eyes widened, “Oh no no no. The Nerevarine will live on in history forever. What he did was nothing short of amazing. And the TOOLS he wielded…now THOSE were something special.”

Nevano blinked. He was used to hearing praise and, on occasion, criticisms, for his actions but he had never before heard of anyone talk about the “tools”. Of course the tools meaning Kagrenac’s tools; Sunder, Keening and Wraithguard. By using the tools, one could tap into the Heart of Lorkhan, to give themselves divine powers. They were extremely dangerous and he had gone far out of his way to make sure the tools were secure and no one could use them ever again. 

“Actually I’ve been working on something and…ah. Erm…never mind.” Nevano watched in amazement as the man went from shy, to incredibly excited and back to really shy and nervous. Humans were just strange… 

“Well, I won’t ask then.” Nevano looked around at the group of students, some of them looking comically small in their robes. They ranged from small kids who definitely didn’t look old enough to be away from their mothers to the small cluster of teenage girls who kept giggling every time they looked at him. That was going to get annoying quickly. “Shall we go then?”

XxXxXx


	10. The Embassy Job

Chapter 9

The Embassy Job

XxXxXx

Nevano sat in the corner of the Winking Skeever, nursing a cup of brandy. It wasn’t mazte or sujamma but it was better than the overly sweet mead or the horse piss they called beer. In all honesty the brandy was about the only thing that got him through the two months of bitter cold he had endured here in Solitude. 

Despite the freezing cold temperatures and the bitter wind that blew in from the harbor, Nevano had really come to love Solitude. It was a lot fairer than he had imagined originally. He had obsessed over the Wolf Queen books when he was a child. It was history, very much true history, he knew but he had loved reading about the intrigue, the betrayal, the subterfuge and Potema turning Solitude into a monster sanctuary. It had put a mental image in his head that Solitude was dark and dingy with dark red skies streaked with lightning, the buildings blackened and burned and monsters growling in the corners. Solitude had had hundreds of years to rebuild from that dark time and Nevano was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t even a bat flying around the Blue Palace. 

The only thing Nevano couldn’t stand was the overbearing Imperial presence in the city. Nevano was still incredibly sore over being arrested at the border, adding to his already jaundiced view. He wouldn’t have lost Hopesfire and Trueflame if over zealous Imperial soldiers had taken the time to realize that a DUNMER wasn’t likely to be a part of a NORD civil war, especially on the side that hated anyone NOT Nord! In a twist of irony that Nevano knew would be completely lost on the empire, being arrested and sentenced to death for doing nothing wrong had made him a bit sympathetic to the Stormcloak rebellion when before he would have ignored them all completely. It was an act that had happened time and time again throughout history: treat people badly and they’ll turn to the very enemy you tried to drive them away from. Sadly, no one had yet to figure this out. 

“Isn’t drinking alone an unhealthy habit?”

Too tipsy to really care how ridiculous it looked, Nevano tipped his head backwards to look at the person addressing him upside down. He frowned. He recognized the Nord watching him with a raised eyebrow, the scraggly brown hair and green eyes but his slightly muddled brain was having a hard time clicking, especially while he was upside down…

“Gunjar? What are you doing here?” Nevano sat up too quickly, “Woah…”

“Apparently babysitting a drunk mer.” Gunjar grinned as he sat down.

“Gotta survive the cold somehow. Not sure how you crazy Nords do this…” Nevano grunted, “And I’m not drunk. I don’t get drunk. Give it a moment and this buzz will go away. It always wears off pretty quick.”

“You don’t get drunk?”

“Trust me I’ve tried.” Nevano grumbled, tipping back the last of his cup, “I’ve had a lot of reasons to get drunk and deliberately tried my hardest to get drunk. Nothing. Gotta piss like a race horse afterwards but that’s all I get out of it. Well, that and an empty septim pouch…”

“Goes straight through you.” Gunjar snorted and helped himself to the rest of the brandy bottle, “Bet that makes you a drinking contest champion.”

“I’ve won my fair share. This was my fourth. I give it fifteen minutes before I’m perfectly sober again.” Nevano eyed his younger friend carefully, “So…what brings you here to fair Solitude? I thought you were busy battling dragons and meditating with old men on a mountaintop. I haven’t heard of a dragon attacking a watchtower around here. I’ll help you again but if it starts spitting frost like the last one I saw, your Norde arse is on its own.”

Gunjar laughed, “No no, not directly dragon related.” Nevano was a bit pleased to see he still had his sense of humor but he had been right; the wide-eyed child was gone, replaced by a man who was well aware of the hardships of the world. 

“Not dragon related? On a vacation from your Dragonborn duties?” Nevano asked teasingly. 

“I met…someone very interesting.”

“Interesting as in female companionship interesting or Sheogorath has visited them recently interesting?” Nevano leaned back in his chair, smirking as Gunjar choked on his brandy. 

“As in old history interesting.”

“Oh.” Nevano let his chair fall back on all fours with a thump, “That’s not really as interesting.”

“Blades. I met someone part of the Blades.” Gunjar leaned in close, talking quietly, “She’s been watching me since I got that dragonstone map from Bleak Falls Barrow.”

“Did some sneaky bait-and-switch to get you to come to her then immediately made you do some dirty work for them and now you’re here to do her bidding that she made you think would be in the best interest of your dragon quest?”

Gunjar’s jaw dropped open, “I…well…”

“The Blades were disbanded in 4E 175 with the signing of the White-Gold Concordant. The Thalmor were given free rein to hunt them down and had pretty much wiped them out by 4E 200. I honestly didn’t think any were left but it doesn’t wholly surprise me to hear that some survived.” Nevano crossed his arms, a little surprised at himself as he rattled off history like a scholar, “They serve the Dragonborn and all in the Septim line were Dragonborn because they were blessed by Akatosh and blah blah blah. That all came to a crashing halt during the Oblivion crises. No more Septims. They didn’t serve Titus Mede or his son so I don’t fully believe that he cared what the Thalmor did to them. However, I’ve been around long enough that I know the Blades. I know their little secret methods. It’s nice that they have taken an interest in all this but they always give the nastiest jobs. They would RATHER you survive but survival is pretty optional as long as they get the information they want.”

“You sound like you’ve worked for them before.”

“I was inducted into the Blades once, long ago.” Nevano glared at the table top, “I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened. The worst assignments I was ever given in my life came from them. I ended up fairly high up in the Blades but once I was done I was done with them. Caius Cosades and I became fairly friendly with each other since he actually seemed to care if I lived or died but that was as far as it went. He got reassigned and I never saw him again. The Blades operate on secrecy and subterfuge. No wonder the Thalmor feared them enough to wipe them out.”

“Well she’s sending me into the Thalmor Embassy to look for evidence that they are connected to the dragons returning or not.” 

Nevano’s ears perked up at that, all traces of his buzz disappearing quickly, “Really? The Thalmor Embassy…”

“Yeah. She seems to think that they had a reason to save Ulfric Stormcloak from the axe so they, I don’t know, summoned a dragon in order to keep the war raging and the Empire busy.”

“Yeah the Thalmor are neither that smart nor that capable for that.” Nevano said dismissively. “And funny you should mention getting into the embassy. I need to get in there. Place is shut up like a fortress. I’ve been scouting it out as best I can between odd jobs. I can scale a tree and jump the fence but there’s no point if I’m going to end up hacked, zapped and shot up with arrows by several dozen Thalmor fetchers.”

“Why do you…oh your swords. Are you sure they’re in there?”

“I finally caught wind of a rumor that the Thalmor found something of great historical importance.” Nevano frowned at his now-empty bottle, “Great historical importance my ass…those are my damn swords! They saw those swords and knew exactly what they were. They have them holed up in there somewhere, I just know it. I want my swords back!”

“Ok. Well what is happening is that the Thalmor throw these little parties to basically convince everyone to like them…” Gunjar started to explain.

“Kiss ass, my innocent little friend, its called kissing ass.” Nevano shook his head.

“Yes, well, that…” Gunjar coughed, “Anyway, I’m supposed to meet up with someone who will sneak some of my stuff in and Delphine got me an invitation. Not so sure how I’ll sneak you in…”

“Don’t worry about that.” Nevano pulled out a rough map he had made of the embassy some weeks back, “I think the party you are talking about will be held in the smaller building here. It’s like their guest building. Some soldiers and mages stay in here overnight but most retire to the big building over here. This courtyard has a few places to hide, some shrubs and trees but other than that it’s open. If you can get away from the party you’ll come out here, I can jump the fence and we’ll continue from there together. But even with the party they probably won’t slack their patrols. There’s always patrols. There’s more patrols here than I’ve seen even around the palace in Mournhold! But most stay around front where guests will be arriving. I’ll bet I just gave you a lot more life saving information than that Blade did.”

“Do me a favor and bring a few extra health potions for me?”

“I certainly will.” Nevano grinned, feeling the old thrill of excitement of a crazy mission curl from his belly and spread up to his chest, making him giddy. This was the type of craziness and adventure he lived for! 

“Well I need to make final preparations with…” Gunjar trailed off as Nevano suddenly got up and bolted out of the inn, “Oh yeah your pee thing…”

XxXxXx

Nevano hugged the tree trunk tightly, inching his way up every time the patrol wasn’t looking in his general direction. He had gone ahead of Gunjar, taking a trail he had made several weeks ago up the mountain around north of the embassy. He had found only one tree that was close enough for him to make the leap over the fence. It was risky; being that close put him that much closer to being discovered by over zealous Thalmor and ruining not only his chances of finding his swords but also putting Gunjar’s mission in jeopardy. He refused to allow that to happen so freezing his ass off climbing a frozen free, covered in snow in an attempt to blend in and not shooting the temptingly close Thalmor was the order until Gunjar came out. 

Finally getting into position, Nevano closed his eyes to keep the patrols from noticing two bright gold points in the black and white landscape. He relied on his sensitive hearing to pinpoint exactly what was going on. The wind would rattle a loose roof shingle and shake the thistle bush by the small pine in the middle of the courtyard and carry the sounds in the courtyard straight to him. Three sets of boots crunched in the snow, two sets were heavier with armor were the soldiers and one light cloth pair of the mage who was wandering around behind the larger building. He was fairly certain there were four more Thalmor around the front of the building but the wind wasn’t cooperating enough to send the sounds of their footsteps his way. However he was confident that if he and Gunjar could take out the three in the main courtyard quickly and silently, the other four wouldn’t notice for a good long while. Long enough for them to complete their quests and be long gone anyway. 

The door handle leading into the “party building”, as Nevano had taken to calling it, began to rattle. Nevano felt the muscles in his legs tighten against the tree as his heart rate sped up in anticipation. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to wait patiently. He could just SEE a rather nasty red-eyed glare of a certain guild champion telling him to sit down, shut up and WAIT. Try as he might Modryn had never been able to fully distill patience in Nevano. Probably because he had had none himself. 

Heavy steps, heavier than an elf. Definitely human. The way it was heavier on the heel than the toe suggested male. Carefully he opened his eyes until he could just make out a big bulky form from under his eyelashes. The dim winter light reflected off of a massive axe head above a shoulder. Nevano grinned. Definitely Gunjar. 

As soon as the door swung shut behind the young Nord, Nevano jumped from the tree, landing lightly next to him. 

“By the Nine…” Gunjar jumped, “You know it wasn’t exactly easy leaving that party…warn a Nord next time yeah?”

“You know, I love parties.” Nevano said, brushing snow off his cloak and hair, “But when I hate the hosts I spend most of my time making mischief.”

“Should have sent you in instead of me.”

“Oh the stories I’ll share over a drink after this.” Nevano grinned, “Now, come on. Let’s go piss off some Thalmor.”

With that the mer shoved Gunjar’s head down and dropped down himself, following the short wall along to the center of the courtyard. Inwardly he sighed; the boy could sneak about as well as a drowning horse. He was having a hard time staying low and he kept walking heel-toe instead of walking on just his toes, making far more noise than necessary. Seeing how it was just the two of them alone in a compound full of Thalmor he could at least figure out that crunching snow was bad…

“Wait…” Nevano’s voice was barely more than a whisper on the wind. He halted Gunjar with a touch to the shoulder and pulled out Bonebiter. The two soldiers were coming back towards them in their patrol. Their routes led on either side of the big building but they met in the middle at the same time. The mage was nowhere to be seen. It really wasn’t ideal to drop two of them in the dead center of the courtyard with a third still around to raise the alarm but letting them go and waiting around to be caught was even worse. Growling to himself, Nevano swiftly put an arrow in each soldier’s throat, Bonebiter’s crushing power destroying windpipes and vocal chords. They dropped silently. He quickly pulled out a third arrow, searching for the mage. 

A small flicker of movement caught the corner of his left eye and he twisted his head around just in time to meet the mage’s eyes as he came around the corner of the building. For a long moment their eyes met, gold eyes met gold eyes, passing surprise, outrage and finally anger between them. Nevano pulled the bowstring taunt on the third arrow and let it fly just as the mage opened his mouth to shout a warning. 

He missed. 

Nevano’s eyes went wide as his arrow merely cut a clean slice along the side of the mage’s shoulder, cutting through cloth and skin. It bled, but it was a minor wound. Bonebiter hadn’t been able to inflict its devastating power. Instead of crippling the mage, it punched through the stone pillar behind him, crumbling the stones and even bending the metal fence a little. 

That was when all of Oblivion broke loose. The mage finished calling out a warning, powering up a spell as he did so. Lightning crackled at his fingertips and the smell of ozone cut through the cold wind. The four Thalmor that Nevano desperately didn’t want to alert came pouring into the courtyard, three more soldiers and another wizard. 

Gunjar jumped up, bellowing like a bull, and charged them, his massive axe already poised for the strike. Well, the boy had balls after all, Nevano thought to himself and he began to rapidly fire arrows off the wizards in an attempt to keep their attention on him and not the clashing warriors. Nevano had to move quickly to dodge the variety of ice and lightning spells being thrown at him. Unfortunately the Thalmor were smart enough to not use fire spells against him. Instead they kept chasing him with lightning and ice. They moved in tandem, one powering up a spell while the other cast, keeping up a steady barrage of magic at the fleeing dark elf. 

Finally they messed up. They both paused in their attack at the same, allowing Nevano enough time to actually aim. His arrow stuck into one of the mage’s collarbone. Normally not an immediate kill shot but as his bones began to snap and shatter, shredding everything in that side of his chest, it turned mortal quickly. The other mage hesitated a split second but that was all Nevano needed to take him down too. Nevano spun quickly to help Gunjar…

Only to be greeting by a giant, goofy, blood splattered smile as the Nord in question walked over to him, a bloody mess behind him all that was left of the three Thalmor soldiers. 

“Here I thought that thing was only good for dragon hacking.” Nevano deadpanned.

“Not so much.” Gunjar shook his head, “Every time I think about trying for dragon steak the damn things turn to dust on me.”

“You finally made a good joke!” Nevano snorted but he had to admit that dragon steak sounded REALLY good, “Next time we kill a dragon you just stay the hell away from it so I can see if we cant get a decent cut from it. Then you can do your little soul-sucking thing.”

Moment of levity over they both turned towards the big building and headed in. Time to get this mission over with.

As they went inside they heard arguing. Nevano immediately tuned it out, instead turning his attention to the Thalmor who had his back turned to them. A quick arrow to the gap between his cuirass and helmet dropped him. With one hand he waved Gunjar to go take care of the room where the arguing was coming from while he made sure the rest of the floor was secure. In small rooms like that his bow was next to worthless and he didn’t want to risk accidentally hitting Gunjar with an arrow. 

Speaking of, Gunjar came walking back to him. “They got away. Some Thalmor called Rulindil is in a downstairs dungeon. They’ve got someone there they’re interrogating.”

“Right right, interrogate…” Nevano snipped, “I’ll bet it’s a cordial tea part down there.”

“Come on. Let’s search the office over there.” Gunjar pointed, “There’s got to be something of use there.”

The little office alcove was messy, for an Altmer at least, but there were a few potions and valuables that Nevano swiftly pocketed. There was nothing to indicate his swords were here though. He couldn’t feel them here. 

“Found them!” Nevano sent a scathing glare at the Nord who at least at the grace to slap a hand over his mouth. At least he didn’t slap his own mouth with the hand currently waving around a handful of small diaries. 

“You can find a way out if you want.” Nevano twisted his jaw in annoyance, “I’m not leaving yet.”

“I’ll stay.” Gunjar at least remembered to whisper this time, “I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Nevano felt himself crack a small smile, a small bloom of warmth sprouted in his belly. It really felt good to have someone at his back again. “I’ll bet Elenwen kept them a bit closer than just her office. There has to be another room where she keeps her little treasures that’s not open to just everyone.”

“Check upstairs.” Gunjar pointed up, “Girls keep jewelry in their bedrooms right?” 

In any other situation Nevano would have made a sarcastic remark. Actually there were several things in that one sentence he could have made a wise ass crack on but a few things stopped him. One, he was highly impatient and wanted to find his property NOW. Two, Gunjar had a point. Girls kept jewelry in their bedrooms. Three; They were STILL in enemy territory and they needed to go NOW. So he kept silent and charged up the stairs, leaving Gunjar to scramble after him.

Upstairs there were two rooms, one at the end of each hallway. The room to the right was rather plain and simple and small, definitely not something an Altmer of Elenwen’s rank would accept. The room on the left however definitely was. It was richly furnished, all delicately carved wood, silk sheets and sweet smelling candles. Far too over the top for Nevano who usually used whatever house he happened to somehow inherit as a loot stash. Somewhere in what used to be Balmora buried under the ash was a house filled with valuables. 

Nevano noticed none of it. The restlessness he had felt in the office downstairs had intensified, bordering on anxiety. He could FEEL them calling out to him but it was muffled. He couldn’t pinpoint just WHERE in the room it was coming from. So he began to tear through the room, emptying out chests, closets and dressers. As each shelf and drawer came away empty, frustration welled up in his belly, making him clench his teeth. The combination of anxiety and frustration was making his throat tight and his eyes prickle. 

“Look.” Gunjar picked up a small diary Nevano had flung aside, flipped it open, and began to read outloud, “The twin blades are truly Hopesfire and Trueflame, the swords that once belonged to Lord Indoril Nerevar and his queen Almalexia, considered saints among the Dunmer. They were last in the possession of the Nerevarine but, despite some rumors he had led the rebellion in Chorrol, he was last reported to have left the shores of Tamriel for Akavir not long before the Oblivion Crisis. The swords were recovered from a prisoner in Helgen. How the thief came into possession of such weapons is unknown for he undoubtedly perished with all the others when the dragon attacked. For reasons unknown the enchantments that were said to light the blades on fire refuse to light. The swords remain inert. Still they should prove most useful in keeping the Dunmer in Morrowind suitably in check for they revere such historical objects.”

Nevano was frozen as Gunjar read, rage kindling deep in his belly. When the words “keeping the Dunmer in Morrowind in check” were spoken, the rage exploded from the small knot he had contained it in into an inferno that engulfed his entire body. They had stolen his weapons to use against his own people?! They had been planning to use Hopesfire and Trueflame as blackmail! To keep the Dunmer under Thalmor control! Tears of rage streaked down his cheeks, his nails bit into his palms. He could barely hear Gunjar speaking anymore.

“Calm down Nevano.” Gunjar took a step back seeing the normally stoic elf break down, “We’ll find them. They’ve got to be here.”

Nevano couldn’t respond. Gunjar was still young, just barely beginning to understand what it was like for one’s people to be under the control of another. Nevano held no grudge against him for that. After all, the boy was concentrating on saving the world from dragons. He couldn’t…Nevano’s ears twitched suddenly. The stone sounded just slightly different than the others. He spun around on Gunjar, eyes burning. “Do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Step on that stone you just stepped on!”

Gunjar obeyed, sliding his foot back onto the stone again. There. Nevano’s sharp ears picked up the very faint hallow thump. The stone was thick but there was a pocket underneath it. There was absolutely no reason for that particular stone, right in the center of the room, to have a hallow underneath it…unless it was deliberate. Nevano dived onto the stone, looking for a crack or lip so he could pry it up.

“Allow me?” The mer moved away as Gunjar hefted up his axe and slammed it down. The loose stone bounced but didn’t crack. Again Gunjar hit it with the axe, this time a small crack appeared along the top. Nevano clenched his tongue in his teeth and held his breath as the axe came down again and again, the crack widening and finally splitting. With one final roar Gunjar split the thick stone in two and helped pry the pieces out of the floor. 

A small hallow had been deliberately carved underneath the floor, just above the wooden beams of the ceiling beneath them and shored with sturdy wood as to not alert anyone walked above it to a hallow. Anyone but those with sharp ears that is. In it was a long, narrow cloth wrapped bundle, now covered in rock shards and dust. With shaking fingers, Nevano pulled it out. As he did, his anxiety lifted, replaced by an exaltation that only came with seeing a loved one again after a very, very long time. He set the bundle down on the floor and unwrapped them, swallowing around the lump growing in his throat. 

Graceful Hopesfire and wicked Trueflame sat perfect and untouched. Their flame enchantments were dark but of course they were. They only responded to their true wielder. No Thalmor would ever have been able to activate their magic. They were simply ordinary swords in another’s hands, well made, yes, but no more special than any other standard sword. Nevano made a strangled noise as he ran a hand over the curved blades, watching small flames flicker in the wake of his touch. The flames had been cold a long while but now they were waking up. Nevano wrapped his hands around the hilts and snapped them up into position, Hopesfire in his left hand and Trueflame in his right. Slowly the flames came to life, igniting at the tip then spreading faster down the blade, bursting into their former glory. In pure joy the flames continued, over his hands, up his arms until he was gently embraced in red and blue flames like a hug. Nevano laughed, feeling whole again for the first time in a very long time.

Reluctantly the flames receded, taking up their normal residence along the blades. Nevano looked up at Gunjar, whose jaw was hanging down by his knees. The elf grinned, gold eyes flashing. 

“Let’s go kick some Thalmor ass.” 

Going downstairs revealed the true nature of the Thalmor. Gone was the brittle pretense of welcoming and tolerance. This, in Nevano’s opinion, was the true face of the Thalmor. Rough bare wood that was stained and scratched lined their way down the stairs into the basement, revealing a dungeon torture chamber. In one cell, a man hung in shackles, his skin covered with cuts that were just deep enough to bleed. Non-lethal but very painful. A mage stood at his cell and a soldier was busily transcribing their conversation on a scroll. 

Nevano’s eyes burned. A long hard life had resulted in a burning hatred for imprisonment of any sort that even exceeded his hatred for the Thalmor. His body was littered with scars he had received from his enslaved childhood. He had spent a good portion of his time on Morrowind releasing slaves, including buying slaves from Sadrith Mora and setting them free right in front of the slavers. It hadn’t endeared him to the Telvanni any but it had given a sort of fierce satisfaction to see hope flare up in the eyes of those who no longer had any. 

“Gunjar, take a breather. This is all mine.”

“You sure?”

“I need to make sure my sword arms haven’t lost their touch.”

Boldly Nevano strode into the room, Hopesfire and Trueflame in their scabbards on his hips. They were mostly quiet but Nevano could feel a tight eagerness in his chest. They were ready to respond the instant he tugged them free, eager for battle. 

“What the…who are you?!” The mage, Rulindil Gunjar had called him, spun around, eyes wide. The soldier spun from the desk, drawing her sword.

“I come with a proposition.” Nevano held his bare hands out, “A simple one, if you’ll so indulge me.”

The Thalmor, confused to the point of actually listening, lowered their hands, staring incredulously at the daring dark elf. Nevano smiled to himself. Modryn had HATED it when he did this. It was a risky maneuver, one that he only took when he had perfect surprise like this and a bargaining chip. If he played it wrong, he could find himself unarmed and facing a room full of attacking enemies. 

“I want that man released. I’ll duel your lady here for him. If I win, you can go free and the man comes with me. If I lose…well, none this will have happened then right?”

“Humph.” The mage gave a haughty snort, “I accept. I doubt you’ll be able to win anyway and Lady Elenwen will never even have to hear about this…inconvenience”

The soldier, at a nod from Rulindul, came at him with a powerful overhand swing, which was easily blocked by both curved blades coming up in a X. Sharp gold eyes noted that his opponent was ever so slightly off balance due to the recoil of his block. He shoved hard with his crossed swords and, predictably, she was thrown back a step. The newly freed Hopesfire came around in a mid-strike and glanced off pale gold elven armor, throwing blue sparks in an arc. The female elf jumped back and raised her hand. Red tendrils of energy surrounded her hand and elongated, coalescing into a red and black sword. Nevano huffed, recognizing the summoned deadric weapon. They were just as wickedly sharp as his blades but the added magical bonus made his opponent just a bit faster than him. He tried to dodge as she came at him again, slicing both swords up high at his neck. He managed to dodge the elven sword she had in her right hand but the deadric blade in her left, bolstered by magic, nicked the side of his neck just deep enough to draw blood. 

Nevano stepped back, frowning at the Thalmor’s triumphant smile. She thought she had him at a distinct disadvantage. She thought she was going to simply run him through as she pleased. She thought she was going to win. She was wrong. 

“Valiant Hopesfire, strong Trueflame, hear me.” Nevano whispered, hands clenching tight on his swords, feeling heat beginning to gather at his words, “Light for me, burn for me. I need your power to aid me in battle.”

Instantly red and blue flames exploded out along the curved blades, lighting the dim dungeon up and washing the walls in red and blue light. 

“The swords…” Rulindil’s eyes widened and he backed up, back towards another set of stairs behind him, “They were inert! The enchantments were spent! All attempts to recharge them failed! They even repelled attempts to use them. How did you…WHO are you?!”

Nevano didn’t bother answering. Not with words anyway. He let Truefire and Hopesflame do the talking for him. The soldier had taken a step back, out of balance and out of a defensive position. Nevano drove at her, pressing his advantage with a flurry of strikes that she could barely counter, never letting up for a second. Left right left left right then a double strike that knocked both arms wide and Nevano drove both swords at her as hard as he could, through armor that crumpled like paper, through flesh that offered as much resistance as water and through vital organs, popping them like overly ripe fruit. Blood gushed from the massive wounds, sizzling as they hit the flames and filling the air with a coppery tang. He yanked his swords free and the Thalmor sank to the ground in a puddle of her own blood.

“No…this is…what are you?!” Rulindil scrambled backwards away from the Dunmer in a panic.

“You tell Elenwen what happened here.” Nevano growled, “You tell her that I remember Chorrol. I will NEVER forget what you Thalmor did and I will not rest until the Thalmor are all DEAD!”

With his final statement Truefire and Hopesflame flared, their flames traveling up Nevano’s arms. Rulindil, completely and totally unnerved by the seemingly insane Dunmer, turned and ran. Nevano didn’t know if he would dare interrupt Elenwen’s party just yet, but it was merely a matter of time.

“You just declared war on the Thalmor.”

“Since the Imperials no longer have the spine to fight back…” Nevano turned to look Gunjar full in the face, “Since they first left the Summerset Isles as the Chimer, my people have had nothing but conflict. We clashed with the Dwemer, the Nords, the beast folk, the Imperials…and no we are under the Thalmor. I don’t care what happens to the empire but those Thalmor bastards killed the only person in this world who…I won’t let it go. I hate the Thalmor and I will kill every last one of them.”

“Someone you loved?”

“One day…I’ll be able to tell you.” Nevano swallowed hard against the lump rising in his throat. No…not now. “I can’t speak of it just yet.”

Gunjar nodded and turned to the desk while Nevano went to release the poor man in the cell. 

“Ah, thank you my friend, thank you.” The man said as he dropped from the shackles, rubbing his wrists, “Thalmor hospitality is…lacking.”

“I understand.” Nevano crouched down in front of him, “What did they want from you?”

“They’re looking for someone in Riften. In the ratways. I really don’t know that much other than his name is Esbern. The ratways are full of crazy people. Not sure why the Thalmor would be interested in crazy old men.” The man shrugged, “I’m Etienne by the way. Thank you for setting me free.”

“Nevano.” The mer helped the man to his feet, “Happy to disrupt the Thalmor’s plans. Gunjar there will be interested in getting this Esbern away from the Thalmor.”

“There’s a trap door over there that leads out. There should be a key around here somewhere.”

“Go wait by it. We’re almost done and then we’ll get the hell out.” Nevano moved over to Gunjar, “Find anything useful?”

Absently Gunjar handed over a key, never looking up from the dossier he was reading, “I think I got all I need. Go unlock that trap door. We should go.”

“Yes sir.” Nevano gave a wry smile and started to turn but stopped when a door upstairs opened. He exchanged a look with Gunjar and snapped out Hopesfire and Trueflame. 

“Keep moving!” A Thalmor soldier shoved a Bosmer roughly towards the stairs, weapon drawn.

“Look I don’t know what this is about!” The Bosmer man wailed, stumbling as they shoved him along, “Whatever you think is going on, it’s not true!”

Gunjar straightened, his face hardening, green eyes turning to stone. Nevano raised an eyebrow as he watched Gunjar’s gloved hands twist on the haft of his axe. “You know the mer?” he asked quietly. 

“He’s a friend.”

“Good enough for me.” Nevano crouched into a ready stance, “Go in hard and fast, before they can strike. The longer this drags out the faster we’ll be up to our arses in Thalmor.”

“Says the crazy dark elf who declared a duel…”

Nevano had no chance to snap a retort. The two Thalmor had reached the bottom of the stairs. They were so absorbed in their Bosmer captive that they never noticed Gunjar and Nevano. They were completely overwhelmed and quickly taken out. Privately Nevano was pleased it was quick. He was rapidly running out of energy to keep up any more prolonged fights. He guessed he had enough left in him to get them all out and away with enough left over for a few skirmishes before he would start making sluggish mistakes. 

“Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life. I hope it was worth it!” The Bosmer was shouting at Gunjar.

“Malborn I…”

“I should have known this would end badly!” Malborn ignored the young Nord, “I can’t believe I let Delphine talk me into this!”

“Malborn…”

“I…”

“By Azura SHUT UP!!”

Both man and mer jumped as Nevano mustered everything left in him to give his best Oreyn-style bellow. It had worked for the short-tempered Dunmer for centuries and Nevano could see the power in it. The volume, the force behind it with just enough malice to make them believe the threat in it. It wasn’t Nevano’s style but he couldn’t deny the effectiveness of it.

“Let’s just get out of here for pity’s sake.” Malborn whined.

Nevano pointed towards the trapdoor where Etienne was still patiently waiting. He looked back up to the amused Nord. “I hate whining Bosmer.”

“You are such a Dark Elf.”

Nevano kicked Gunjar through the trap door after Etienne and Malborn in response.

The trap door led to an ice cave. With the absense of wind it mercifully wasn’t nearly as cold as it was outdoors. But as soon as Nevano’s feet hit the ground his nose was assaulted with a very familiar smell. Heavy, utterly disgusting with a weird barely discernable whiff of something sweet. Only one thing on this planet smelled like shit and candy at the same time; a troll. 

Nevano snapped out his twin blades as he heard the troll roar. He was exhausted and he really doubted he had the energy to hold up in a prolonged fight against a full grown ice troll…

He screeched to a halt as an agonized howl echoed through the cave, making the mer clap his hands over his ears. There was a wet thump and the howl mercifully was silenced…then another thump. Curious, Nevano dropped down off the ledge. He smiled as he watched Gunjar trying to pull his massive axe from the beast’s head.

“After all that and there’s a damned troll at the end.” He was grumbling, bracing his foot against the troll’s face as he yanked, “Damned Thalmor pet…”

Nevano snorted. “Good job kid.”

Gunjar yanked his axe free with a sticking, sucking noise and made a face, “You know, these things aren’t all that smart. How is there so much brains?”

“Funny…I remember Modryn saying the same thing about Nords and Orcs whenever we ran across them in bandit packs.”

“Hey!”

The Dunmer smirked as he strolled out of the cave. He plopped down on a snow covered stone wearily, watching as the Bosmer and the Nord captive took off into the woods, not once glancing back at the cave of horrors. The mer couldn’t blame them really. Thalmor by themselves were considered a bad day at any given time. The rest of the crap that happened today? Probably their worst day in existence. Nevano didn’t even count this in the top fifty. 

“So…drinks and something hot to eat?” Nevano asked Gunjar as he came out, “I’ll pay. You actually made a joke back there. I’ll gladly pay for that. I'm starving. I could eat an tavern out of business.”

“As much as I want to take you up on that, I think I’m going to have to pass.” Gunjar sighed, “One of these dossiers is on that Esbern that Etienne mentioned. Apparently he’s a Blade. Explains why the Thalmor want him… I should probably get this to Delphine sooner rather than later. Besides those Thalmor will be really upset after this. If I need to move ahead of them, best do it now before they send the assassins after us.”

Nevano laughed, “Oh yes, those fearsome assassins. You and I have faced walking long-dead Nords, dragons breathing fire and ice and saber cats with bad attitudes. Bring on the assassins! I’m sure the Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood are threatened by such an elite assassin force.” the mer shook his head then turned serious, “However, remember what I told you last time; she needs you not the other way around. Don’t let the Blades force you to do something you don’t think is right.”

“Before we go our separate ways…can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You…are the Nerevarine aren’t you?” Gunjar looked right at him, green eyes piercing into gold ones, “That diary…it said the last known person to carry those swords is the Nerevarine, the Dunmer hero from…what, 200 years ago?”

“Yes…yes I am.” Nevano sighed, “And it was indeed over a few centuries ago…make a mer feel old why don’t you.”

“So you know what it’s like.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to not let the Blades bully you.” Nevano glared at the ground, old injustices surging up. Modryn had always said he was as good a grudge holder as a Telvanni wizard. “If it wasn’t for the Blades I wouldn’t have been framed for murder, tossed to Vvardenfell like trash, used as an errand boy all on a GUESS. It was pure luck that I just happened to please Azura. The ones who didn’t…died. Can you imagine that? The emperor, in all his so-called wisdom, picked an orphan who happened to be born under the Lady and just…did that. No one who thinks they are in charge of this quest to stop the dragons will care if you live or die, least of all the Blades. You ARE a hero…the only one who can stop this. YOU matter.” Nevano gave him a sad smile “ ‘Each event is preceded by prophecy. But without the hero, there is no event.’ Remember that. Zurin Arctus said it. It was said in reference to those who stood tall in times of great crisis. Many heros have risen up throughout Tamriel’s history. The Blades think they raise them up and take them down like dolls. Nothing can be further from the truth. You be careful out there.”

Gunjar nodded and stuck out his hand, “I promise.”

Nevano grabbed his wrist and shook his hand, “If you need a friend, I’ll be repaying a debt to the College of Winterhold.”

The mer watched as the young hero took off through the woods. He would see Gunjar again before everything was over, he could feel it in his bones. At his sides, Truefire and Hopesflame heated up briefly in agreement.

END PART 1

XxXxXx


	11. Part 2 Dragons (The Old Armiger)

Part 2 Dragons

Chapter 10

The Old Armiger

XxXxXx

Vivec City 3E 427

Nevano ran along the canal streets as fast as he possibly could, jumping over market carts and shoving people aside. Behind him a horde of very angry Ordinators charged after him, easily cutting a swath through the crowd he previously had to fight his way through. Clenched in his hand was a parting present from Crassius Curio: a wanted poster with his name and a rough sketch of his face. Wanted for... well he wasn’t really certain. He hadn’t been very certain of anything since being let loose in Seyda Neen. For being a heretic? Probably. Caius Cosades hadn't been joking when he said the priests of the Tribunal were humorless bastards. 

“Get back here you sacrilegious n’wah!!”

“Sorry!” Nevano called over his shoulder as knocked over a display of short swords in their way, ignoring the outraged squawk from the merchant, “I’ll have to take you up on your offer of hospitality at a later date!”

Really, he needed to get a filter between his brain and his mouth. He wasn't doing himself any favors being a complete smartass to temple guards armed to the teeth. Just to prove this point, a spear grazed over his shoulder. Nevano yelped. These guards were INSANE! If they were willing to put innocent citizens in danger by throwing a SPEAR in a CROWD then he needed to shake them and quickly. 

More spears flew after him. He bolted into the waistworks of the Foreign Canton and darted down as many hallways as he could. Unlike outside, he didn't knock over any displays. He didn't want to leave an obvious trail. Dodging people he ran out of the waistworks on the other side of the canton and ran for the bridge connecting the cantons to the mainland. He took a quick glance over his shoulder as he rounded the corner by the Hlaalu canton, trying to see if his pursuers had made it outside yet. He might stand a better chance jumping off the side and swimming for shore and losing them once and for all out in the wilderness. He was willing to risk getting bitten by a few slaughterfish at this point. Nevano was so busy looking behind him he didn't see the Ordinator in front of him. He slammed full into the much taller mer's back and fell flat, the air knocked clean from his lungs.

The Ordinator turned and looked at him. Bright red eyes studied him from beneath the mask and unlike the other Ordinators chasing him, there was no burning rage or hate; just mere curiosity. “So you’re the one they’re after; the Nerevarine.” He murmured, more to himself than to the scared mer on the ground in front of him. He looked up sharply as shouts echoed off the cantons, “Get up.”

“What?”

“Get. Up.” A strong grip grabbed Nevano’s upper arm and hauled him to his feet and shoved him behind a pillar. “Stay still and stay quiet.”

Nevano had no choice but to obey the strange order. He slid to the ground and curled himself into as small a ball as he possibly could. With as much weight as he had lost in the past few months he was practically invisible, a small blip in the shadows. Nevano angled himself just slightly so that he could catch a glimpse of the voracious pack, absolutely bristling with weapons and tempers, stormed right up to their tall stoic brother. 

“Veleth, have you seen the heretic?” The one in front demanded.

“Would I be standing here if I did?” Nevano’s savior growled, “If you lost him out here then you should probably be in the water looking for him rather than asking me stupid questions.”

“We’re going to block off the bridge to the mainland.” The first Ordinator growled back, “Go patrol and keep watch for him.”

"I know my job." The one called Veleth responded cooly, "It seems you should remember yours. Throwing spears into a crowd will not endear us to the public. We are pretty well hated already."

"You watch your tongue!" Another Ordinator stepped forward, ruby sparks fairly spitting from behind the mask, "Our job is to preserve the faith NOT babysit citizens!"

"You are of the Order of the Watch NOT the Order of the Inquisition!" Veleth barked, "Or do I need to tell Berel Sala that you simply cannot uphold your oath to protect the law and law-abiding citizens and should be re-assigned to backwater swamp in the middle of nowhere with only mudcrabs for company? Go find your heretic. I doubt that pathetic creature will even gain a flicker of notice from Vivec."

"You better watch yourself, Veleth." The first Ordinator warned quietly, "I doubt you disappearing will gain a flicker of interest from Vivec either," 

The pack moved off and Veleth watched after them, “You can come out now.”

Nevano stood carefully, watching the temple guard for any sign of aggression. Veleth stood easily, his arms crossed over his chest despite just being threatened publicly by members of his own faction. Nevano felt pretty safe in thinking this Ordinator was unlike any other.

“Why?”

Veleth didn’t answer. Instead he grabbed Nevano’s arm and began leading him back through the city, taking canals and cutting through cantons away from the frantic searchings of the other Ordinators. He didn’t answer any of Nevano’s stammered questions nor did he release his arm from that iron grip. He just kept up his silent determined march until they made it to the southern end of St. Delyn Canton. They came to one of the many nondescript doors on the bottom level where the Ordinator produced a key, unlocked the door and shoved Nevano through.

“Jorun what is going on... who is this?” 

Nevano looked up to see a stunningly beautiful Dunmer woman watching him with her head tilted curiously. She didn’t look particularly bothered that a fully armed Ordinator had just tossed a thin, exhausted, sketchy looking mer into her home. Had Nevano been in her position he would have beaten the pitiful creature with a rolling pin until it ran out of the house. So she reached for something on a shelf, he flinched back, fully expecting something to fly at his face.

“Woah, it’s ok.” She said gently, holding up a small healing kit, pity flickering in her red eyes, “Jorun what happened?” 

The Ordinator pulled his helmet off, running a hand through his dark hair, “This is that heretic they’ve been making noise about for a while. Those fools are all frothing at the mouth and barking. It'll be safer for him here. They don't want to bother with me.”

“Oh you poor boy.” She went over and began fussing over the young mer, tutting over how thin he was and making disapproving noises over the dirt engrained in his skin from months fighting through the wilderness. Then she came to the cut on his shoulder, "This will need to be stitched but first we need to get some food in you."

Nevano flinched back then checked at his own actions. What had he become? He had been confident and sure of himself just six months ago back in Cyrodiil. Now he was afraid of his own shadow. He could barely take the kindness of strangers when once he had been rather social. He took a deep shuddering breath, trying to quell his nerves.

"There you go, outlander." Veleth had taken off his weapons belt and put it with his helmet on a side table, "We aren't going to hurt you. I sure as hell won't arrest you."

"Why?" Again he asked that damned question. Morrowind had this annoying habit of never answering "why". It was either half answers or lies. Getting the full truth was very rare. But right now he desperately needed the full truth to "why". His shot nerves simply couldn't take any more. 

The tall powerful Dunmer sat down, running his hand through his hair again, "To be honest, I don't know. I'm bound by my oath to the Temple to but...it doesn't feel right."

A steaming bowl of aromatic stew and a hunk of bread were placed in front of the skinny mer, distracting him nicely. His mouth watered. How long had it been since he had last had a hot meal without snarling down an equally hungry nix hound? Speaking of nix hounds, he could smell heavily spiced nix hound meat. His stomach gave a loud growl. 

"Eat. You're as skinny as a scrib." Nevano didn't need anymore urging. He dug in with gusto.

"My wife Drelasa." the Ordinator smirked at the younger mer's borderline rude table manners, "My name is Jorun Veleth, not the most devout of the Ordinators of the Temple."

"I'm Nevano." he said between bites, "How does a Dunmer with a Nord name end up a Ordinator?" 

"I could ask how a small, skinny outlander ended up as one of the most controversial heretics in history." Jorun grinned, revealing a sense of humor not common among Ordinators. "My father was a bit obsessed with history. He named me after Jorunn the Skald-king. I won't bore you with the history lesson..."

"Wasn't he the High-King that drove back the Akavir and brought the first Nordic army into Morrowind since the War of Red Mountain?"

"Ah and the heretic has a brain!"

"If I had half a brain I probably wouldn't be here...small and skinny, I'm just short! Skinny because I've done nothing but run from you Ordinators and just about everything else on this island." Nevano grunted, "As for the heretic part, I grew up in Cyrodiil. Stories about the Nerevarine were a bedtime story for children. I knew about it, knew about the Tribunal and knew about a 'devil in the mountain' but I went about my life as a fighter in the Fighters Guild thinking it was just...stories. It was a matter for those with more power than me. I had my life and my problems, they had theirs. Six months ago I was arrested on a made up charge, exiled here without so much as a trial or even a second glance and told I was going to play puppet for the empire in this little prophecy."

"So now it's MY turn to ask YOU why." Jorun leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, "If they turned you loose, you've obviously had many opportunities to run. Why not take it and leave this behind? Why continue, why be the Nerevarine?"

Nevano shrugged, "Strike me down with lightning but from the way I see it the Tribunal screwed up. They had plenty of time to fix things but they either didn't or they failed. Things are so far out of their control that divine intervention won't do shit any more. The past six months I've seen people suffering. Ashlanders and city mer alike are suffering and dying. I saw a little Ashlander girl get caught in the ash storms a moment too long and... well I know how bad corprus can be and I wish with all my being I could have just saved that little girl. I hate seeing innocents dying due to some so-called powerful person's mistake. So if one mortal mer can do better than three gods, so be it."

"And that's why I didn't arrest you."

"You'll lose your job..."

"So be it." Jorun repeated as he stood up and buckled his weapons belt back on and picked up his helmet, "My family always believed in doing the right thing. We always had a knack for being in the right place at the right time for the right people. If you are the one to kill Dagoth Ur then I'll happily rub that in those idiots' faces while throwing my helmet at them. In a few days it'll be safe enough to get you out of Vivec City. Stay here and rest up, Nevano. Azura knows you're going to need it."

"I don't think I'll be able to repay this kindness..."

"Oh that's easy. Save the world. I'll call it even then."

Jorun laughed as he went out the door, dodging the piece of bread Nevano threw at him. 

XxXxXx

Blacklight, Morrowind 4E 201 Sun’s Dawn

Captain Veleth hid his relief as the faint outline of Blacklight rose on the horizon. A solid week of sailing was not the captain's idea of a good time. Though the sailors had called the crossing calm, there had been more than one instance where he had to use all his considerable will to keep his stomach from crawling up his throat. Some Dunmer were just not made to be on water. 

"It was my father who had the sailing blood in his veins. My mother, the Lady of Maar Gan, was from a inland town." First Councilor Lleril Morvayn came up to stand next to the captain, "So I was rather surprised when she made the decision to cross the sea to Solstheim. To her, water was a precious commodity but a hazardous one. Any sizable body of water attracted dangerous creatures, not to mention what lived UNDER the water. As a result, most Dunmer would rather brave the ash storms then make a life on water."

"Heavy armor and water don't mix." 

The rest of the journey passed quickly. There was no long wait to the harbor this early in the morning fortunately. The city of Blacklight itself was set back inland, about an hour hike from the shore to the city center, almost right in the center of the left arm of Morrowind's mainland. With the Inner Sea to the east, the Sea of Ghosts to the north, the Veloth Mountains to the west and many chokehold points to the south, Blacklight was a well defended city, a welcome relief to the many refugees. 

But it was not a haven. That was instantly apparent the moment Veleth stepped off the boat with the councilor. Dock workers were tense and captains stayed with their ships, glaring at anyone getting too close. They were protective, defensive really. Many weren't even letting their crew too far from the ship, which was incredibly odd. Veleth, from his experience leading soldiers, knew that giving men leave was good for morale and kept them happy and willing to work hard. There was only one reason why an officer would keep his men close: to protect them. There wasn't much that could scare a sea captain but Veleth had a pretty good idea just what had them so upset. 

When Blacklight became the capital of Morrowind and had begun its ascension into glory, a wall had been constructed around the harbor, effectively funneling all traffic, and all cargo, through one main gate. It helped keep track of commerce, kept errors on imports and exports low and effectively put a leash on the black market. It SHOULD have been a good thing and most Dunmer should have accepted it without much fuss. Except that the wall was ordered, built and managed by the Thalmor. The fact they had named it the Justicar Wall was particularly offensive. The entire harbor was under Thalmor control and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it. Except raise absolute hell, which did absolutely nothing. 

As they approached the gate, Veleth felt himself tensing. The main gate was set in the thick wall, the sides closing in so that no one could escape Thalmor notice, or run. The captain did NOT like feeling flanked by hostile forces, especially not by forces he didn't have a lot of experience fighting. He had made his career in fighting off the continued attacks from the Argonians in southern Morrowind early in the fourth era. After about a hundred years or so of fighting and promotions, he had suffered a grievous injury that had resulted in being reassigned to Raven Rock after councilor Morvayn had repaired the Bulwark. It initially was supposed to only be until he had recovered enough to resume active military duty but he had done such a good job that no one wanted to remove him. Surprisingly, he had been in full agreement with them and wished to stay. He had spent the Great War years in Solstheim, though he doubted he would have gone to Cyrodiil to fight against the Thalmor anyway. A few Dunmer had gone in defense of the empire but the majority had stayed in Morrowind, trying their hardest to protect their homeland. 

"If you glare any harder you're going to set the entire harbor on fire." the councilor noted wryly.

"Maybe it'll melt the wall instead."

"That will certainly make you a hero in Blacklight." Morvayn said, "Just don't get detained by the Thalmor. We do not have much time to dally."

Veleth nodded, focusing on the gate ahead. Four Thalmor soldiers, two on each side, stood at attention on either side of the gate. They gave the heavily armed and armored captain more than a passing glance as he went by and the look wasn't very friendly. At the gate itself was a weedy Thalmor wizard holding a thick scroll. He tried, and failed, to give a sincere smile as they approached.

"Ah, Councilor Morvayn. I thought I heard that the archmaster wanted to see you." The gate master said, "How is Raven Rock doing these days?"

"As strong as the island itself."

Veleth had to really resist the urge to grind his teeth. It was that thinly-veiled polite nothing he hated about politics. He was a soldier. He spoke bluntly and honestly. This form of speech, where the words meant something but also meant nothing at the same time, was a waste of time and energy. 

"Ah and Modyn Veleth, captain of the Redoran guard in Raven Rock yes?" The gate master's eyes bored into Veleth's, looking for any sign of weakness to exploit, "I'm surprised that you came along. How is that old injury?"

Indignant anger bloomed in his gut. The sheer NERVE of the insolent little fetcher! "I was under the impression you were a gate guard, a doorman." Veleth said quietly, enjoying seeing the Thalmor's eyes narrow, "I'm surprised you were even entrusted with that sort of information. Now be a good little door man and open the gate."

"Why you..."

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid we don't have time for petty squabbles." Councilor Morvayn interjected as the four soldiers tensed up, hands gripping their weapons a little tighter, "The Archmaster is not a patient mer and we do not want to risk his disapproval."

"THIS is not over yet, WELP." The gate master glared full on at the captain, "And there won't be a thing your crazy father can do about it."

Anger sparked into rage. If this s'wit thought for a SECOND that Veleth was snot-nosed child who used his father's position as head of the guard in Blacklight then he'd post the fetcher's head on a pike! Before Veleth could return the threat in kind, Morvayn gave a warning cough, effectively halting the verbal exchange before it could come to physical blows. "Let's be off. Archmaster Ramoran is waiting on us." 

Bristly with irritation the captain followed the older mer to a waiting carriage that would take them to the city.

"I think I should give you lessons on political finesse." Morvayn said as they settled in, "Or else you might get into a fight with every Thalmor in Blacklight before we leave." 

"I want to know how they got that sort of information." Veleth growled, "That injury was from before the Great War, well over 30 years ago."

"Modyn they have access to everything. We can't stop them from rifling through things from before the war. They know pretty much everything. They're nosy little fetchers. Despite that note being coded they knew we were coming. The fact that they knew YOU were coming is what is concerning me." The councilor steepled his fingers, "I was the one who requested you come along, not the archmaster. When we get back to Raven Rock, I think we need to conduct an investigation into uprooting a traitor. Again"

The captain grunted his assent. He hadn't been there for the first assassination attempt on the councilor but Second Councilor Adril Arano had filled him in on that. Multiple times. Each time in greater, more exaggerated detail. Actually Veleth wasn't even sure WHAT had happened because according to Morvayn the culprits were stopped with plenty of time and hung while Arano insisted it was an invading army mounted on the backs of dragons that destroyed half of Raven Rock in less than 5 seconds. Still, he would find a way to root out any sort of traitor in HIS town. 

"Until then, please refrain from rising to the bait." Morvayn said, "They tossed it out and you swallowed it whole. I need you walking free not in Thalmor custody. I don't think I can bail you out."

"Yessir."

"Good. On that note, I have a job for you. Actually its the whole reason I brought you along."

"Councilor?"

"I let you and everyone else think I brought you along as the captain of the guard to protect me in the city." Morvayn smiled, "Not true at all. I brought you because I want you to find your father and I want you both to listen in on this meeting." The councilor grinned broadly as the very undemonstrative mer in front of him nearly fell out of his seat. 

"You want me to what again??"

"Find your father and listen in on this meeting."

"Why in Azura's name do you want me to do that?" Shock had completely stripped him of his usual polite formality, letting all of the blunt coarseness of a soldier come through.

Morvayn just chuckled, "I have my reasons." Political reasons, something he knew Veleth wasn't really interested in. No one would suspect two soldiers, one with a reputation for being blunt as an ox and the other as an old eccentric, to be spies. But he wasn't trying to further himself as was normally the case in the tumultuous Dunmer politics. No, he wanted those two informed to further Morrowind herself along. "Now, you'll have about half an hour after I make it to Rootspire to find your father and get back before the meeting begins. I think that's more than enough time."

Veleth agreed. What else could he do? He was being sucked into the political game, something he had desperately hoped to avoid. 

"How is that old injury by the way?"

"My left kidney lets me know when a snowstorm is coming."

The remainder of the trip was spent in a comfortable silence. Veleth was glad for it really. It gave him plenty of time to think about what he had gotten sucked into. Well, even though it wouldn't be high on his lift of things he would like to do, he would give it his all like he always did. He just hoped he could handle the political field. 

Blacklight had always been a stately city. After it became the capital of Morrowind, its grandeur grew. It had grown in an odd shape; where most cities grew north and south or east and west in a uniform growth or conformed itself along a natural water supply Blacklight was in a giant circle that grew in a sweep reminiscent of a comet. Rootspire sat in the southeast from the city and the main road arched up to the north gate from there. Surrounding Rootspire was all military and political ministries. Then the market districts arched from the main gate to the south to the eastern side of the city. The remaining arcs were purely residential. In the dead center of the city the Dunmer had created a shrine to the deadra and the saints, with a statue of Azura in the center. The Thalmor had tried to take it down but things had gotten so heated and riotous that the Thalmor had let it go. The temple was a massive building, combining Indoril and Redoran architectural styles that put even Almalexia's old temple in Mournhold to shame. It was here at the temple that the captain as let out. 

Captain Veleth knew Blacklight like the back of his hand. He had been born here and had grown up in this exact area. He could have easily have walked this route with his eyes closed and not missed a step. No matter how reluctant he was, his feet would always take him straight back to his childhood home. The same little house with a distinct Indoril style door. 

He raised his hand to knock but the door opened before he could. In the doorway was an old mer but still tall and powerful, especially in his own set of bonemold armor.

"Father."

XxXxXx


	12. Rumors

Chapter 11

Rumors

XxXxXx

Vivec City, Morrowind – 3E 427

This was the first time Nevano had ever gotten a good look at the palace of Vivec. He had been in the area before, even been right next to the building, but never before had he had the luxury to just stand and stare for a moment without worrying about Ordinators chasing him for one thing or another. It was a massive structure, constructed in the shape of a step pyramid with six levels. At the top he knew was where Vivec himself resided. The rest was called the puzzle canal. It really wasn’t something he felt like exploring. It was just something with the name that turned him off.

Looking up at the incredibly long flight of steps Nevano felt exhausted suddenly. Not physically exhausted, though that had plagued him from the moment he had arrived in Morrowind, but mentally worn out. He had done nothing but run and fight the whole time, covering the entirety of Vvardenfell at least three times over, doing his best to suck up (or bribe or kill) just about every person worth noting in just about every city, town, village, camp, mud squat and hole in the ground. He had been fairly hated by everyone and not through his own doing for once. Now, suddenly, at the whim of one being, he was allowed to walk freely without fear of persecution. It was confusing, frustrating and, above all, maddening. 

Nevano blinked and realized he was already halfway up the stairs, his body moving automatically. Something was pushing him onward with a determination he certainly didn’t feel in his heart. It carried him up the rest of the stairs and up to the oddly plain and heavily locked door to Vivec’s abode. It wouldn’t let him turn away when his courage faltered, instead pushing him to unlock the door and shoved him on through. He felt a bit like a puppet and someone else was moving his strings. He didn’t necessarily like it but he had no time to fully mull this over as he found himself in the presence of the Chimeri God. 

Nevano took an instant dislike to Vivec. Well, dislike wasn’t quite the word. He had taken one look at the golden Chimer god and a rage had erupted in his belly like the volcano he had died on. Wait…died? Nevano did a mental double take. The rage he felt was…disconnected. It was there, he could definitely feel it but it was as if he was watching it in a cage like a wild animal. It wasn’t his. Like the determined force that had carried him up the stairs, the puppet master, it just wasn’t HIS.

“I expected you. We have business, you and I.”

Nevano had been told Vivec was very direct and to the point but still, it was a bit of a shock when the god barely allowed him to shut the door behind him before launching into it. 

"When I was young like you, I was very impatient. So I will keep our business short. Then, later, there may be time for other things. First, I propose to remove my curse upon the Nerevarine, end the persecution of the Dissident Priests, and proclaim to all Morrowind that Nevano is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied savior of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. These things I will do, whether you wish or not."  
Nevano blinked.  
"Next, I propose to surrender to you the power and responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur. You may choose to refuse; I will not compel you. You will receive the power as a gift, in the form of an artifact called 'Wraithguard." You may accept the gift, then do with it as you will. You will receive the responsibility as an oath. You may give your oath, then keep it or break it as you like. First, will you accept Wraithguard as a gift?"

Nevano watched him warily, still not over the shock, “Yes…” Honestly, what else could he say at this point? Vivec did not smile, did not change his expression from anything other than the bored, impassive look as he passed over a heavy dwemer gauntlet over to the thoroughly confused mer in front of him. 

"Good. Sensible of you. And now, will you give your oath, before all gods and men, before all spirits visible and invisible, before my honor and your honor, to dedicate yourself and Wraithguard to the defeat and destruction of Dagoth Ur, and the preservation of Morrowind and its people?"

‘Do it.’ A small voice instructed in the back of his head, tight with annoyance and agitation. Nevano wanted to squirm in discomfort. He didn’t know if he was finally going mad or if there was truly someone else in his head. “I swear…”

"Not very sensible. But very good. I was hoping for someone who would have no hesitations about making such an oath. You will now have a brief, momentary sensation of time passing. Don't be alarmed. You are being taken out of time in order to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning how to use Wraithguard. It will be over before..."  
Nevano had no time to be alarmed. He felt as if he had been plunged into a black ocean, the water closing over his head, completely suspended…   
"...you know it. Now. I will notify the Temple that you are our champion. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled. We have time for questions, if you like. Or you may leave, as you wish. But I think there are at least two things you ought to know before you leave: how to use Wraithguard, and how to defeat Dagoth Ur."  
“I think I can figure it out…”  
Vivec raised an eyebrow. “You are curious…what really happened at Red Mountain? What really happened to the Dwemer? What was the Dwemer’s sin? What is it like to be a god? Do I remember being mortal? How do I feel about the people of Morrowind? Or do you wish to hear my council? Or bitter recriminations?”  
“Bitter recriminations? What does Vivec, the warrior poet, the god who lives amongst mortals, have bitter recriminations about?”

“You want to chide me…why did I murder Nerevar? Why did I break my oath to Azura not to use Kagrenac’s tools? Why did I cause others to suffer? Well we did not murder Nerevar…”

“LIE!” The mounting irritation that Nevano had been feeling in the back of his mind exploded. SOMETHING seemed to suddenly slip into his skin like someone putting on a coat. His own consciousness was shoved harshly into a corner of his own mind. He became a mere bystander in his own body, watching all the motions yet dimly feeling all that the same time. It was not a pleasant sensation, especially when the foreign presence was so ANGRY.

“You betrayed me, Vivec!” This voice was definitely NOT Nevano’s. It was deeper, laced heavily with an accent that had long since been lost to the Dunmer. Suddenly Nevano understood. And, judging by the look of astonishment (and was that a twinkle of fear?) on Vivec’s normally impassive face, he understood too. “The ones I counted on the most, my own queen, and I ended up dead on the mountain side. Don’t you dare try to deny it. In the darkness Azura’s eyes see all and you know, you KNOW, that your stolen immortality will be taken from you and you will have to answer to the prince of dawn and dusk.” 

Nevano felt the presence leave his body, allowing him to regain control. He was left feeling drained and sick. His hands shook like crazy. Nerevar had used a lot of his energy to maintain his spirit in this body for that long, especially with that little speech. Ghosts normally couldn’t invade a body with a soul already occupying it like that…was he really Nerevar? Was Nerevar actually IN him? He looked up at Vivec, who was starting to open his mouth to reply.

“Don’t. Just…don’t. I refuse to be used as the middle ground between a dead general and a god who stole his immortality and the deadra prince who calls me her champion. I’ll defeat Dagoth Ur…and to hell with the rest of you. The people of Morrowind have suffered enough from your stupidity. At this point, I don’t care who killed who thousands of years ago. I don’t care about the Temple, I don’t care about the Great Houses…I just care about the innocents who are out there clinging to a small hope that SOMEONE will save them, even as friends and family drop dead around them and monsters plague their dreams. Assuming you have a plan and a map written out somewhere, I’ll take them and be on my way.”

Vive wordlessly nodded towards a dais with several sheaths of paper on it. Nevano grabbed them, glanced quickly over them and shoved them in his pack. Now the anger growing in him was his own, but instead of the blinding rage of Nerevar, this one was filled with determination. This land was filled with greedy politicians who claimed to care, but in reality couldn’t see beyond their own noses. Nevano intended to change that, starting with Dagoth Ur. But there was one last thing he needed to do before he left…

“The Ordinator Jorun Veleth.” Nevano frowned, turning back to the god, “I want him reassigned. The Ordinators didn’t know what they had but I think the Buoyant Armigers would appreciate his skills far more.”

The god raised an eyebrow, “You think I would presume to extend my influence to one mer who clearly defied his oath?”

Once again Nevano felt Nerevar’s anger rise up in him, mingling with his own. He refused to be blinded by it though and shoved it back into its corner. “You’ll do it because you want to win against Dagoth Ur and that’s the mer who will help me accomplish that. I’ll inform him myself, escort his family to Balmora if need be…you just need to inform Ghost Gate that he’ll be there. And a good position too. If I find out he’s been assigned to clean up someone else’s shit I WILL come back and you and I WILL have business to conduct. But I highly doubt you want to face me again after I permanently destroy your immortality. He served you loyally…now he will serve me.”

Vivec stared at Nevano a long moment before finally nodding. Nevano noted the finality he added to it. A dismissal. Very well then. He left, Nerevar finally going quiet in the back corner of his mind. It was time to end this insanity.

XxXxXx

4E 201 Sun’s Dawn – Blacklight, Morrowind

Father and son made their way through the streets of Blacklight, neither speaking to the other. It wasn't that they didn't want to but that it wasn't safe to. There were unfriendly ears all over the city, not all necessarily Thalmor. It was a sad state of affair when they had to be wary of their own people but there were many of the disgraced house Hlaalu who would do anything to see Redoran fall, even at the cost of the people of Morrowind. Such was the bitter rage of those who felt betrayed. It was a giant twisted game of intrigue but in both Veleths’ minds the stakes were far too high for this to be a mere game. 

It didn’t take them long to navigate back through the city, through the residential areas, through the market district, back to the Rootspire district. By now the sun was fully up and the city was crowded with people going about their business. That made it easier to blend in…but also harder to pinpoint anyone trying to tail them. It was a nerve-wracking journey, one that Veleth was glad to be through with once they reached Rootspire. 

Rootspire was just that, a giant spiraling tower made up of the roots of a giant mushroom whose cap cast shadows over the city. It had been grown long ago by Telvanni wizards whose names had been lost to even the long memories of the Dunmer. Like most Telvanni dwellings the interior of the trunk had been carved into twisted hallways, opulent rooms and more than one secret passage. Unlike most Telvanni mushroom buildings however there was no need for levitation. Over the centuries stairs had been added in for those who either couldn’t or didn’t want to have magical aid in moving about the structure. 

Councilor Morvayn was waiting for them in the entrance hall. He was outwardly calm enough but Veleth could tell he was getting impatient. He knew he was still within the time given to him but Archmaster Ramoran was a very punctual mer and hated tardiness. The councilor couldn’t afford to be late even by a few moments, especially not with Raven Rock in its precarious position. 

“Oh good, you’re both here.” He said upon seeing them, “Take the side staircase up to the observation room. If you find a Thalmor on your way there…well, no one will miss them. Go go, the council meeting will start in a few moments.”

That statement would prove to be the ONLY highlight in the younger Veleth’s day. Sadly he never got the chance to act on it. No Thalmor stood in their way as Jorun led his son up a smaller staircase hidden behind a small door. At the end of the staircase was a small room that was partially hidden from the massive council room below. By leaning against the wall and slightly craning his neck he could see the councilors filing in, the archmaster already seated at the front of the room.

Hlaren Ramoran was an ancient Dunmer who had been on House Redoran’s council longer than anyone could remember. He had survived Ald-ruhn being overrun by deadra, survived the Red Year and was now the closest thing to a ruling figure Morrowind had. Despite his very advanced age, the archmaster still was sharp of mind and a powerful force to be reckoned with. 

Varvur Sarethi and Nartise Arobar had, like Lleril Morvayn, inherited their positions from their parents after they had passed. Both were also from Vvardenfell, their fathers had actually been on the council that had named the Nerevarine the Hortator of House Redoran. Councilor Sarethi had left for Blacklight shortly before the Oblivion Crisis and Councilor Arobar had followed before the mountain had erupted. Veleth didn’t particularly like Sarethi; he was a bit too cautious, more willing to follow along with the majority than take a stand on his own. Arobar, on the other hand, was a tough mer. She was outspoken, clever and had a razor sharp tongue that was sharper than any sword. She was far more willing than Sarethi to get things done. Her biggest flaw was that the methods she chose were often morally questionable. Often she either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see that her plans were unethical. Suggestions made to help improve her ideas often made her snappish and defensive, making dealings with her rather difficult.

Veleth didn’t really know much of the final two, Teleri Llervu and Saryn Andavel. Llervu was a very common Dunmeri surname and he wasn’t sure just which family she came from. Not that it mattered really; Teleri Llervu was a very non-descript mer. She rarely spoke at meetings and never seemed to apply herself too much of anything. The captain was fairly certain she was plopped on the council to fill the final seat when they couldn’t find anyone willing to be in the room with Arobar without breaking down in hysterics. Saryn Andavel was from the far eastern region of the mainland. He was young in comparison to the rest of the councilors and had served in the militia for a time. He was a good mer but usually was over-ruled by his elders on the council. Other than that Veleth didn’t know much about him. 

“We do not have much time so I will skip the formalities.” The archmaster said, “We have discussed the matter of the Thalmor to death. We know that we stay with the empire because of our weakened state and that our people gain some sort of prosperity, as well as a small peace of mind, from them. It’s a dying empire; one we can’t rely on forever. But that is not why I called you all here today.”

A clerk brought out a scroll and handed it to Archmaster Ramoran. It was obviously a foreign made scroll: instead of a more fibrous paper that reflected Morrowind’s tough flora, it was a paper pulp, indicative of Imperial or Nordic make. He unrolled it to reveal a detailed drawing of two swords. 

“We received this along with a note from the Thalmor Embassy in Skyrim three months ago. The Thalmor are claiming that these two swords that they… recovered are the legendary Truefire and Hopesflame, the swords that belonged once to Lord Nerevar and Lady Almalexia, most recently in the possession of the Nerevarine. They are offering them back to us, as a token of good will, IF we sign a concordant with them stating that we secede from the Empire…and agree to join the Aldmeri Dominion.”

Instantly the room erupted. Every councilor was on his feet shouting in indignant outrage, even the more timid ones. Veleth felt like joining them. Join the Aldmeri Dominion…JOIN the ALDMERI DOMINION?! 

“Easy boy.” Jorun said, frowning at the council meeting below.

“SILENCE!”

The sheer power of the bellowed command forced every councilor back into their seats and silenced them instantly. 

“Enough of that. No, we are not going to just hand everything over on a whim.” Ramoran sat back down and steepled his fingers together, “However, I would like some confirmation of the validity of this claim on the swords. Councilor Andavel, I believe you have some men stationed at the ready at Dunmeth Pass?”

“Yessir. They keep tabs on…”

“Good, spare some men and have them go to Skyrim and check on this claim. Councilor Arobar has a few spies she will lend to the mission. I want them to leave at once.”

Nartise Arobar blinked but didn’t protest. She heard the command given and only a fool would argue with the archmaster when he was in this mood.

“Now about…” The archmaster trailed off, glaring at the door. Everyone turned in their seats, following his gaze to the door as it flew open. Up in the observation deck, Veleth started to turn to look but his father dragged him back towards the door, motioning for him to be silent. Several sets of footsteps marched into the room. Veleth heard the military sharpness as they marched in and then the swish of them turning on their toes into position. Then a solitary set walking into the room. Judging by the cold silence below, the intruder was not welcome in the slightest. 

“Archmaster Ramoran I am surprised at you.” An oily voice echoed through the room, “You called a little meeting and didn’t invite me.”

“First Emissary Calindil…” Ramoran said icily, contempt dripping in his voice, “I don’t recall having to inform you of every meeting House Redoran conducts.”

“We are simply here to uphold…”

“Yes yes, so you’ve been repeating since the moment you decided to take up space in our city. Same as the last dithering fool before you.” The ancient Dunmer spat, giving up all pretense of being polite to the Thalmor emissary, “That doesn’t give you permission to just walk in on any meeting you please without sending word ahead at the very least.”

“Oh I think you’ll find that I can.”

Veleth dared to take a few steps forward to get a better look. Four Thalmor Justiciars were standing at attention at the door. The Redoran soldiers at attention around the room had moved into a more aggressive position, ready to force the intruders out of the room should the council give the order. He glanced back at his father, raising an eyebrow in a question.

“Newly arrived here in Blacklight and even less well loved than the last fetcher.” Jorun whispered so quietly his son had to step closer to hear, “The last emissary went…missing one day. This one is a bit wilier. No relaxing walk in the swamps for this one…” 

“Hear me, you arse-kissing n’wah.” Ramoran stood up, quaking in fury, “I don’t care WHAT you claim in Cyrodiil. This is Morrowind. This is MY city. You will abide by MY rules. I will not have a horde of snotty gold elves thinking they own us running wild in MY city, harassing MY people and tracking us like we’re some prizes won in a drinking match!”

“Oh but you are prizes. We won you in a war, or did you forget?” the emissary grinned nastily, “I understand if you did. Old age does that even to the best of us. So I shall remind you; The empire, the empire that Morrowind still belongs to, lost the war to us, the Aldmeri Dominion. Thus you, the Dunmer, became spoils of war. We can do whatever we want, including listening in to your little…meeting.”

“Guards! Escort our Thalmor visitors out. At sword point if you please. I won’t say anything if they walk out of Rootspire with a few extra holes in them.” Instantly the well-armed soldiers leaped to attention, swords and pikes brandished. The four justiciars bristled but the emissary held out a hand to stop them. He wasn’t dumb enough to incite a fight when he was badly outnumbered.

“Oh Archmaster Ramoran, this isn’t over.”

“Oh I believe it is. Now get out of my meeting.”

The air was thick was tension as the Thalmor were escorted out. Veleth found that he was clenching his hands into fists, his fingernails cutting crescents into his palm. 

“If only we were back in the time of the Nerevarine…we need a champion.” Councilor Sarethi murmured as soon as the doors shut behind the Thalmor.

The younger Veleth nearly groaned out loud as he sat down heavily. The Nerevarine. Again. 

"Something the matter, son?"

"You and everyone else...the Nerevarine is gone. He's been gone a long time." Veleth growled, "What was said? He went to Akavir? Either way he's gone. Gone or dead. The swords the Thalmor claim to have are probably something they had someone draw from something they saw in a book. I doubt they even HAVE a pair of swords. It’s a ruse. They are simply trying to control us. From the sound of things it’s working."

"Hmmm, I see." Jorun nodded, not bothered in the least at his son's outburst, "And you raise several very valid points. However, I'm going to blow a good portion of that out of the water. The Nerevarine is still around and, I firmly believe, very much alive. He's a hard bastard to kill."

"And how, pray tell, do you know THAT?"

"Because I'm the one who started the rumor that he went to Akavir." Jorun said with a smile. “And, quite simply, I lied.”

The younger mer, for the second time that day, was pretty certain his jaw had just bounced on the floor somewhere. 

"I know you know the story of how your mother and I met the Nerevarine. You grew up on those stories. But there's a fair few I didn't tell you." Jorun explained patiently, "About 6 years after Red Mountain, right before the Oblivion Crisis, he came to visit. It was so painfully apparent how bad the stress of trying to help Morrowind back on its feet was affecting him. So I spread that rumor so he could break away from all that. He had worked hard enough to break us free...we couldn't continue to rely on him like that. As for your theory that those swords are NOT Truefire and Hopesflame, you could very well be right. However if it IS them, then their rightful owner won't be too long behind to claim them, if it hasn’t happened already. The Thalmor are holding fire in their hands."

"What if..." Veleth couldn't believe he was suggesting this, "What if they think he’s back as well? What if it was a ruse to bring the Nerevarine out of hiding? To use him against us as well."

"Then they'll die." 

"Simple as that..."

"Simple as that." Jorun looked at his son, “The Nerevarine wouldn’t allow himself to be used in such a way…especially not against his own people.” 

The younger captain didn't push for more information. He had heard enough and somehow, after finally hearing the truth, it just didn't seem enough

"Go back to Raven Rock. If the Thalmor come there, do your best to keep them in the dark." The elder Veleth turned his attention back to the council meeting below, which had turned to more mundane things now that the interruption was over, "Currently the Thalmor are preoccupied with watching things in Skyrim. When this whole thing with the dragons and the civil war die down, they'll turn their full attention to us. Things will come to a head. I'm just not sure how. For right now, things will be difficult just holding ourselves together in the face of this." 

Captain Veleth nodded, his face stony as he watched the politicians below. 

XxXxXx

Winterhold, Skyrim - First Seed 4E 201

Nevano leaned back against the wall, eyes closed and arms crossed, only half listening to Arniel babble on. He was used to listening to mages babble. Usually only the first and last sentence was pertinent. Everything else was nonsensical babble that didn’t pertain to him. He had only been at the College of Winterhold for a week, he had taken his time getting to Winterhold, helping people along the way. It felt good getting back to his old lifestyle, the life of the adventurer. He was starting to see what Kodlak meant, that no matter how far he wandered, he could not escape who he was, what he was. He had been so out of sorts running from himself and now, being what he was meant to be, just felt right. 

But feeling right didn’t make dealing with mages any easier. Almost 200 years ago, the Mages Guild had dissolved, thanks to widespread paranoia after the Oblivion Crisis. It had splintered into two separate factions; the Synod and the College of Whispers. Now instead of there being one well behaved faction, there were two rival factions pushing the limits of public tolerance and the laws of nature in order to win favor of the favor of the Elder Council. The College of Winterhold, he had discovered, was an independent university altogether. They were not affiliated with either faction, though both factions were certainly vying for their support. Like a bad love story, the College of Winterhold wanted nothing to do with the annoying suitors. But being independent like they were meant they abided only by their rules, and, to Nevano, mages had really strange rules. 

Which was how he found himself leaning against a wall, listening to Arniel Gane go on about a project to learn about the disappearance of the dwarves. When Nevano had initially heard that he had mentally rolled his eyes. Yet another mage trying to uncover the mysterious disappearance of the dwarves. Again. Emphasis on again. Nevano himself had met the last living dwarf and even HE had no idea what had happened. They magicked themselves away. That was the closest explanation that sounded even slightly plausible. But no one could fully accept anything less than a truth they could see and touch and so mages continued to conduct experiments to try to figure it out. At least it kept them occupied and away from far worse experiments.

“I got the cogs, I got the charged soul gem…” Arniel murmured, going over his check list nervously, “All we need is…drat!”

“What are you missing this time?” Nevano yawned, idly wondering just what weird powder or spore might be in the air in this magical place and what it might do to him now that he inhaled a lungful of it. 

“I ordered a package through Enthir…”

“Say no more…” Nevano sighed, pushing himself off the wall. Enthir was the local…black market of sorts. He officially proclaimed himself to be a sorcerer of the college but Nevano called foul on that. The shady Bosmer was simply using that title as a cover-up to run a back street market of magical items, especially since he never seemed to catch the mer actually DOING anything at the college other than make bad deals with the mages who were often too distracted or too naïve to do more than go along with it. Nevano already had a run-in with Enthir within a few days of arriving, when the sole Nord in the college had begged for help in getting his family amulet back from Enthir after he traded it. Nevano had had a “talk” with the Bosmer. Fifteen minutes later he delivered the amulet back to its rightful owner. Now it seemed he would have to have another talk with the underhanded dealer. 

Of course “talk” meant grabbing the annoying mer by the collar of his robes, pinning him to a wall and worrying him like a dog with a rat.

“What do you want you insane Dunmer?!” he squawked when Nevano slammed him against the wall. 

“I’m getting real sick of having to deal with you.” Nevano glared, “Where’s Arniel’s delivery?”

“Look I’m not holding out on him, I swear!” Enthir waved his hands plaintively, “I have no idea what it is…or where it is. I was simply asked to find someone to get it here from Morrowind! Last I heard there was bandit activity around Lost Knife Hideout. It’s south of here, down by the Throat of the World. When you see Fort Amol you’ll know you’re close.”

“Answer me this…WHY would a package from MORROWIND get lost that far SOUTH when it’s nearly a direct route from Winterhold to Dunmeth Pass?” Nevano narrowed his eyes, punctuating his words by giving the increasingly terrified mer a quick shake, “And WHY do you know so much about this place?”

“I don’t know! Maybe there was an ambush? Look I just know it’s a good place to look!”

“If I find out you have ANYTHING to do with this package going missing, there is not a hole in this frozen hell that you can crawl into to hide from me, understand?”

“Yes I do and no I didn’t!”

Nevano dropped the smaller mer to the ground and strode off to his rented room at the Frozen Hearth to grab his pack. It was time to go dungeon diving.

XxXxXx 

Lost Knife Hideout turned out to be a cold damp cave partially hidden by a waterfall. Nevano strode in, keeping his weapons holstered for the time being. He was finally well equipped to deal with whatever the cave would hold and his confidence was bolstered. 

Right away he came upon two bandits sitting around a fire. Bonebiter quickly took care of them and he strode on, coming into the biggest cavern he had ever seen. He had stop and take it all in; waterfalls fell all around the room into a small lake below. A giant column of natural rock rose up in the center of the cavern. Wooden walkways had been constructed along the upper ledge to the right while a natural bridge went off to the left. Several bandits were walking around up on the ledges and around the center column. Nevano grinned and twirled an arrow around his fingers. 

A few minutes later he strode through the rocky halls, twin swords drawn. He wouldn’t allow himself to be trapped by the thought that this was easy but…he was thoroughly enjoying himself. With Bonebiter at his back and Hopesfire and Trueflame back at his side, he was making quick work of the bandits. 

He meandered through the halls, taking care of whatever obstacles that he came across. He walked quickly through a larder, stopping momentarily to help himself to a slice of roast rabbit the bandits had just left on the table. As a general rule he usually didn’t eat while on missions. Either time was of the essence or there was simply too much danger to be distracted for a moment. But in bandit dens he usually allowed himself that indulgence. Bandits, by and large, usually had really decent food stores. Their greed stretched beyond monetary wealth and in addition to stealing coin and valuables, they cleared out the pantries and larders. Nevano had known more than one bandit group that stole only livestock and produce. They made a decent living off of it too. In fact, some of the best meals he ever had been from bandit stores. And it was free, after he killed the bandits that is. If he didn’t have a pressing deadline, he’d go back and clear out the food stores so he could eat like a king on the way back home. 

He went down another hallway, across a bridge, shooting another bandit along the way and came into a big cavern with several levels, cages lining the level directly below him. A wall had been built along the lip down to the next level. From his vantage point Nevano couldn’t see into the chasm below the wall. The bad thing about that was that he couldn’t get an accurate count over how many bandits were actually in the cave. From where he was he could only see one off to his right. He could go along the edge to his left to see better but it was well lit and he didn’t want to lose the element of surprise just yet. 

The mer carefully crept to the ramp to his right. Azura granted him good luck as he quickly sent an arrow into the neck of the one bandit to the right. It was a quick kill, a silent one, and no one came running to investigate. He darted down the ramp and over to the barrels on the small rise, ducking down behind them. This wasn’t a good spot to be, as backlit as he was with the fire pit next to him. Anyone glancing up would see him. Sucking in a big gulp of air he slid around the barrels and down the ledge to the darkened tables below. 

“Is an’one man enough t’take me on?!” a slurred voice bellowed through the cave, nearly making Nevano jump clean out of his skin. He hunkered down under the table, his heart beating wildly. The twin swords heated up on his hips in reaction to his distress, begging to be loose. “No one? How ‘bout you?”

Slowly Nevano angled his head up. A drunk bandit was wildly swinging a great sword around, dangerously close to removing his own head once or twice. Around him lay a dead cave bear and 3 other bandits who had been wildly hacked to bits. 

Nevano sighed. He knew what he needed to do. He pulled out Truefire and Hopesflame, mentally commanding them to stay unlit, and carefully leaned them against the makeshift wall. Then he pulled out Bonebiter. Shooting the drunk idiot would completely blow his cover, but he would rather face a cave full of bandits with his twin swords than that one drunk fool waving a massive sword around. That was just asking to leave with missing body parts and he didn’t feel much like begging a healer to reattach an ear. He wasn’t even going to think about the “or worse” part. With a resigned sigh, he aimed and let loose an arrow that hit the drunk bandit right in the face. At least it shut the drunken yelling up. His sensitive ears couldn’t take much more of that.

“Oh shit the chief!”

“Who’s there?!”

“There! Up on the ledge!”

Really? The drunk moron killing his own people was the chief? It was so absurd that Nevano could feel a headache threatening to rise up. Of all the stupid…

Four bandits came charging up to him, one hanging back and pulling out a bow. Quickly Nevano fired off an arrow at her, not really aiming and hoping that it would at least distract her long enough for him to deal with the other three. He dropped Bonebiter and scooped up the twin swords, who immediately lit up at his mental command. Of the three charging in, two immediately quailed at the sight of the swords at their full fury, but the third never even slowed his charge, swinging a great axe. The bandit was sloppy. Truefire sliced his gut open and left him on the ground desperately trying to shove his own intestines back in his ruined belly before he finally bled out.. The other two looked at each other and then charged in at the same time, trying to flank the mer. One bandit had simple hide armor on, if it could be called armor, and wielded a hand axe. The other was in slightly sturdier armor and carried a shield in addition to his sword. In other words, nothing to weigh them down, making them fast and dangerous. 

Truefire struck against the wooden hide-covered shield. The shield was made of weathered wood and the hide was well cured and hardened to an almost shell-like quality. None of that mattered against Truefire’s powerful flame enchantment. The shield erupted in flames, causing the bandit to cry out and throw it down. He didn’t pay attention to where he was throwing it though and threw it against a bale of hay. The dried grass instantly erupted in flames, catching the unfortunate bandit’s clothing on fire as well. Nevano wrinkled his nose as the smell of burning flesh accompanied the screams of burning bandit. 

Hopesflame hooked under the head of the hand axe coming in on his left. With a twist of his wrist, the axe flew out of the bandit’s hand and across the cavern. Nevano was just about to bring Truefire around when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The archer had recovered and was aiming at him, arrow pulled back to her cheek. Instead of ducking for cover and leaving the bandit in front of him free to arm himself again, Nevano dove for him, wrapping an arm around his neck and swinging him around just in time to take an arrow to the chest. Now that was taking care of two birds with one stone! Not to mention the look on the archer’s face when she realized she had just killed her fellow thief was priceless. 

Taking advantage of the moment, Nevano quickly scooped up Bonebiter and knocked an arrow. The bandit archer was scrambling for an arrow but she was shaken. Her hands were shaking too much to grab the arrow and knock it. By the time she managed to grab one, her chest was completely caved in by the powerful chitin bow. 

Nevano let out a sigh of relief as the cavern went silent, save for the crackling of fire. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen his stiff left shoulder. It was being stubborn as of late, especially in this colder climate. Sadly there wasn’t much he could do about it. Slowly he looked around, pretty certain he would find the missing courier in here.

Sure enough, in one of the cages Nevano found the messanger, “Poor fetcher…” he murmured as he picked the lock. Judging by the wounds he had fought for his life against the wolf that lay dead in the cage next to him, also covered in grievous wounds. No one deserved a death like this, not even the poor wolf. Strangely enough, his delivery was in the cage with him, still partially wrapped. That was more than a little odd. No doubt the whole reason the courier was even IN this cage was because of the package he carried but the bandits showed little interest. Strange…he didn’t get the feeling that these bandits were the kind to kidnap people purely for bloodsport. He swung the gate open and reached for the package

‘DON’T!’

Nevano fell back, clutching at his head. “Dammit Nerevar!” he growled. He hadn’t heard from that fetcher in a while though he was pretty certain he had been interfering quite a bit lately. Not that he was ungrateful, especially for the assistance in Dustman’s Cairn, but by Azura the mer needed a bell or something. A warning growl echoed from the recesses of his mind. “Alright, alright. No touching. I get it.” Nevano pulled out Truefire and flipped the cloth over with the point of the blade. 

There, illuminated by flickering firelight, was the last thing Nevano ever expected to see: the Dwemer made blade Keening, one of the legendary tools of Kagrenac. Again Nevano fell back, his chest tightening. He felt sick. No…there was no way. Keening…he had hidden Keening away! The mer felt a cold sweat break out on his body, a roaring, rushing noise filled his ears. He never wanted that damn weapon to be used ever again and he had made certain that it would stay hidden and unusable…no no no this wasn’t right!

His chest was tightening more, making it hard to breath. He grabbed at his chest as pain exploded from a small point by his heart. He clawed at the ground with his other hand. Nevano had a fairly high pain tolerance but this was pain even he couldn’t manage. Just like last time it pulsed through him in waves, the agony increasing with each new pulse. His vision blurred in a white-hot agony. He might have screamed, he didn’t know. His world had coalesced into this burning agonizing hell.

Finally, mercifully, the blackness rose up to claim him and he willingly allowed himself to be swallowed by it. 

XxXxXx


	13. What Friends Are For

Chapter 12

What Friends Are For

XxXxXx

Ghost Gate, Morrowind – 3E 427

Jorun Veleth stood just inside Ghostgate, in the red zone, as the other Ordinators and Buoyant Armigers had taken to calling the area between the Shrine of Pride and the gate. It was an open area, no real places to hide and the shrine itself was just out of sight of Ghostgate. Pilgrims had been attacked by crazed beasts and ash monsters in that short distance, making it incredibly dangerous. Patrols that had been mounted to cover the path to the shrine had resulted in far too many deaths and injuries. They simply couldn’t keep up a regular patrol there and the monsters knew it. 

Dreylyn Llenim came out to stand next to him, looking out into the desolate red landscape. The wind was starting to pick up again. Another ash storm was on its way. They had a few hours until it would drive them indoors. 

“It’s very likely he’s dead.” She said bluntly. 

“Not this one.” Jorun never looked over at her, instead narrowing his eyes so his lashes would filter the ash away. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

“Jorun, it’s been almost a week already. No one has ever survived Dagoth Ur that long, let alone being on his own like that. And he said he was going to two other citadels before going to Citadel Dagoth?”

“What is your point?” Jorun finally turned to her, scowling, “That kid was our last hope. If you give up on that hope, you might as well go take a walk into Red Mountain and throw yourself into the crater.” 

“Jorun…” She sighed, “He might be a friend but what he did…”

“Was ordered by Vivec.” Jorun made sure to throw out the god’s name, knowing how utterly devoted everyone was to the warrior-poet. His personal faith in the Tribunal had been wavering lately, especially after meeting Nevano, “He didn’t have to do any of this. He could have run and left us to our fate. He owed Morrowind nothing. After the treatment he suffered, he owed it less than nothing. Now we at least owe him enough faith that he’ll succeed and maybe, just maybe, help get him home.”

“The TRIBUNAL couldn’t defeat Dagoth Ur!” She protested, “What do you think that small skinny kid can accomplish? And further more…”

“Shh…” Jorun waved a hand for silence, “Do you hear that?” 

The Great Ghost Fence, the largest one ever constructed, was a symbol of the strength of the Tribunal. Thousands and thousands of Dunmer had given their ancestors bones, indeed some even sacrificed themselves and pledged their entire skeletons to the construction of the fence. The power of all those souls, augmented by the immense power of the Tribunal, had created a fence capable of keeping Dagoth Ur and all his minions and waves of diseases trapped within the Red Mountain region. Well, mostly anyway. The cliffracers had been a boon that Dagoth Ur had not counted on, carrying his plagues over the fence to the populace beyond.

But as the two Buoyant Armigers looked up at the blue translucent magical barrier, the constant hum that it always emitted faltered for a moment. That had never happened before. Even when the Tribunal had gotten in trouble with increasingly powerful Dagoth Ur, the fence had kept up its powerful presence. It hiccupped again, this time the barrier faded a moment as well, like a fire dying in the wind. Armigers, Ordinators and Temple priests, despite the danger, all came out to investigate the suspicious burp of silence with the two Armigers. Everyone in Ghostgate quickly get used to the constant humming within days of arriving to their new post. If anything, that hum became a comforting white noise in a place where fear, boredom and tension was commonplace. Of course sudden silence would attract more attention than any loud noise. 

As they all watched in stunned silence, the great fence flickered once, twice…then with a shuddering groan disappeared completely, the prickly feel of magic bleeding from the air, leaving only an unnerving stillness in its wake. For a long moment, everyone stood in shock, unable to comprehend just what this meant. They didn’t know if they should be afraid that the fence had failed, run in terror, or celebrate that it meant something else, something good for once.

“He did it.” Jorun was the one to break the silence, “The kid did it. The Nerevarine…this means…”

“Oh gods, you were right.” Dreylyn muttered, “He did win. Dagoth Ur is dead!”

Everyone began cheering and yelling, excited. At first Jorun joined in, for this truly was something to celebrate, but his mind quickly went to Nevano and the smile fell from his face, replaced by worry.

“Jorun?”

“We don’t have time to celebrate…those monsters no longer have a master.” Jorun’s words quickly sobered everyone up, “They’re going to come here.”

“Shore up. Ghostgate is still strong…”

“No.” Jorun shook his head, “We gotta clear them out. There’s no fence to keep them in. It won’t be long before they figure that out. We’ve got to kill as many as we can to keep them from flooding down to Balmora. We also got to clear the way so the Nerevarine can make it back. He’s alive I know he is. C’mon we have to get ready to fight!”

Galdal Omayn, the Grand Marshall of the Bouyant Armigers, looked over at Ralyn Othravel, the head of the Ordinators, “Well, the rookie raises a good point. Normally I’m not one to follow the brash ideas of newbies but… Ralyn, think your Ordinators can keep up with us Armigers with your fancy heavy armor?”

The mer frowned, “You are suggesting we completely disobey the orders given to us by Vivec himself and take on Almalexia knows how many ash beasts because a disgraced Ordinator turned Armiger suggests it for the sake of one heretic?”

Jorun shifted uncomfortably as everyone tensed and went silent, watching the two mer carefully. They were all willing to jump to arms but no one would go against orders, no matter how much sense it made and no matter how badly they wanted the opportunity to finally fight back. Finally, after a long agonizing minute in which Jorun fully expected an order to retreat into Ghostgate and a hefty reprimand, the commander lifted his chin. 

“First faction to kill fifty of the bastards claims bragging rights. The loser buys drinks tonight.” Ralyn looked over his men, “Arm yourselves, boys! I don’t intend to lose to the Armigers! I have a bottle of aged Cyrodiilic Brandy for the mer that kills the most!”

“That’s the spirit you stuffy old bat!” Galdal raised her glass sword and banged it against her shield, “Armigers, draw your weapons and form ranks! It’s time we take back our home from these monsters once and for all!! For Balmora, for Morrowind, for the Nerevarine!”

A roar went up from every Dunmer throat. Weapons were drawn, bows were strung and mages cracked their knuckles. They rushed to take up positions, the heavier equipped Ordinators taking up positions in front, bravely waiting to take the brunt of the creatures. The lighter Armigers took up supporting positions around them. Archers crawled up on rocks and swung up on top of the building, now that there was no ghostfence to block them, getting the best advantage they could. The mages joined them. Jorun positioned himself between the Ordinators and the Armigers, drawing the glass longsword he had been given when he had arrived at Ghostgate. All that was left to do was wait.

They didn’t have to wait long, surprisingly. A mere hour into preparations, the first of the monsters crested the hill. Jorun flinched a little. He was far more familiar with city woes. The worst he had really encountered was one massive, heavily mutated rat with two heads. These creatures were…absolutely horrifying. There was no other way to put it. There were monsters and then there were monsters that made your nightmares look like stuffed animals singing and dancing around a blossoming fruit tree. These twisted beings were enough to make even a hardened warrior think twice about engaging. 

“Easy rookie.” Galdal said, raising her shield up, “Don’t let them ugly bastards scare you off. Just watch out for spells, avoid the claws, kill them quick and you’ll be ok. If you see a corprus monster, and trust me you’ll KNOW when you see one, let the archers and mages take care of it. If it gets too close, retreat. Don’t play the hero with those things. There’s no need for anyone to survive the fight only to die from the divine disease.”

“Nothing divine about it.” Jorun muttered, steeling himself as the onslaught descended on them, letting his stubborn Dunmer pride overrule his fear. 

The ensuing fight could be described as nothing less than insane. Desperate ash creatures, suddenly cut off from their master, fought madly. There was no strategy, no formations, nothing that had any semblance of anything other than a desperate struggle for survival. He just hacked away at anything that reached for his throat. He didn’t notice fatigue, he ignored pain and he pushed aside fear. As long as he kept moving, kept fighting, he could keep it up. If it moved, it died. Whenever he heard a warning shout that a corprus monster had arrived to the battlefield he would retreat with the others and as soon as the mages and archers took it down, he was right back on the front. Every now and then, just to be annoying, a diseased rat or cliffracer would throw themselves at the brave defenders. It was just one more thing adding to the intensity of the fight. 

“Ogrim!”

Jorun looked up in alarm. Sure enough, attracted by the sounds of battle, a massive ogrim, a servant of the daedric prince Malacath, had wandered in. Horrendously ugly, sloppily massive and dumber than a drunken orc, it was a force to be reckoned with. It was a walking tank of blubber that could destroy just about anything it wanted. Azura help any fool that made one angry. This particular ogrim was bigger and uglier than most. It tipped its head back and roared so loud and long that the Veleth could actually smell the putrid stench of its breath, almost making him gag. Archers and mages focused their attacks on the daedra servant but the arrows couldn’t penetrate the thick layer of fat and spells merely left scorch marks on its skin. It roared again, this time in anger. Their attacks were making the ogrim angry. Very angry. Then its piggy little eyes landed on Jorun. 

“Veleth!” Dreylyn yelled, “It’s focused on you!” 

Another thing about ogrims…despite being hugely fat and sluggish looking, they could run astonishingly fast over short distances, especially when they zeroed in on a target. Even if Jorun had started running the instant they had first seen the ogrim he still wouldn’t have been able to outrun it once it focused on him. He only had one option right now and even THAT had an abysmal chance of survival: fight like hell. 

Years of being an Ordinator had given Jorun extensive training on long blades and blunt weapons. The Buoyant Armigers had started teaching him lighter, faster weapons like short swords and bows but they were still very unfamiliar in his hands. Another Ordinator threw him a steel spear. Jorun braced the butt of the spear on the ground, wedged under a good-sized rock and waited, praying to whatever god or goddess that happened to be watching at that point that this would work. 

The ogrim came hard and fast and, completely disregarding or failing to notice the spear altogether, impaled itself in its eagerness to get to the tall mer. Jorun fell flat on his back on impact but held on to the spear with everything he had in him. If he dropped it now, he was a dead elf. The blade sunk deeper and deeper, impossibly deep. The blade disappeared, then the cross piece, then the haft began to sink in. The Ogrim was still coming, massive clawed hand balled and ready to strike down on the mer in front of him. Jorun was trapped, he was vulnerable on his back and there was no way he could escape in time. Suddenly there was a loud POP. The ogrim froze…then a massive gush of blood rushed out of the wound, coating Jorun and the ground around him. The ogrim groaned and swayed. Jorun could barely see through the thick slop of ogrim blood but he could see the massive shape begin to fall. Throwing what was left of his dignity aside, he scrambled, clawing at the soaked ground to get out of the way just as the ogrim fell, shoving the spear the rest of the way through so that it stuck up like a morbid flag.

“Not bad rookie!” Galdal said, coming over. She made as if to clap him on the shoulder but thought better of it once she got a whiff of the sticky ichor coating him, “You might want to consider a shower after this…and burning that armor…and your clothes.”

“Just remember he was an Ordinator first!” Ralyn shot at the Armiger.

“He’s ours now, cranky pants!”

Jorun swiped at the blood on his face, suddenly realizing it was silent. The death of the ogrim had scared off the remaining monsters. For the moment at least.

“You did good.” The marshal turned a bit more serious, “More will come, but for now we can breath. Not around you though…you stink.”

“I’m…very well aware.” Jorun tried unsuccessfully to brush more blood off of him, “But in all honesty, there was no way I could get myself killed this soon after getting this assignment. My wife would bring me back to life just to kill me herself. If I had to choose between my wife getting mad and facing another ogrim…it’s the ogrim every time.” That earned him a good laugh from every man there and more than one smirk from the women.

Three more waves of ash beasts assaulted them but, despite the fatigue starting to creep over all the defenders, they beat back every single wave. Bodies of ash beasts began to pile up, actually doing a fairly good job of driving back several would-be attackers, giving them all some relief. They were fully in the groove of fighting, ready to attack whatever came over that hill. So when a solitary mer simply walked over the hill and down the path, it threw them all off. Even Jorun had to take a few moments to fully realize that it was not another enemy, that it was an elf. Nevano had made it back. 

Jorun broke rank and ran up to him, surprised and happy to see the younger mer walking around, “Nevano…whoa.”

Nevano looked up at him, yellow eyes glowing oddly bright. He was so covered in bloody ash that he almost didn’t even look like an elf anymore. Blood still seeped sluggishly from a massive gaping wound on his left shoulder, soaking his already soaked and ruined armor. Slowly Nevano opened his mouth…and a stream of words in a language Jorun couldn’t understand came out in a voice that…wasn’t Nevano’s. It was deeper and that accent was…not the Cyrodillic tint that Nevano usually had nor was it the rough Morrowind accent that came from years of exposure to ash. Then the glow faded from Nevano’s eyes and, like a puppet cut from its strings, the young mer’s legs gave out. Somehow Jorun caught him before he hit the ground, scooped him up and carried him into Ghostgate and to the nearest healer.

For the next four days, Jorun stayed close by the unconscious mer. The list of injuries was incredible: broken ribs, broken arm, broken leg, claw gouges over his already abused ribs that could have been from a cliffracer or some other ash beast that had begun to fester, innumerable other bruises and scratches and, to top it all off, that massive gaping would on his shoulder that looked suspiciously like a bite mark. He shouldn’t have been able to walk out of the crater, let along the several hour hike back to Ghostgate. In fact, his injuries were severe enough the healer had given Jorun that worried look that said she wasn’t sure if Nevano would survive that first night. 

But he did survive. The morning of the fifth day, Nevano finally cracked open his eyes. He rolled his head a bit and finally bleary yellow eyes met worried ruby eyes. Any fears of Nevano being permanently broken were dashed when the younger Dunmer opened his mouth.

“First fetcher to ask me if I’m ok is going to get hit over the head with Sunder…” 

Jorun laughed.

XxXxXx

Lost Knife Hideout, Skyrim – Second Seed 4E 201

Nevano slowly opened his eyes, wincing from the dim light in the cavern. He had a massive pounding headache in addition to the lingering pain in his chest. These attacks were getting real old, real fast. 

He turned his head and Keening was still sitting there, the firelight making it glow red like it had been doused in blood. Nevano couldn’t say he was anymore pleased to see it now than he had been…how long had he been out? There was no way to tell inside a cave. He groaned and pushed himself up. Now it all made sense why the bandits didn’t mess with the package. They couldn’t. No one could handle Keening with their bare hands. He pulled his bag over and dug through it. At the very bottom of his bag, wrapped in black cloth to blend in with the dark material of his pack, was the whole reason he had originally felt secure in leaving Sunder and Keening in their respective hiding places in the first place. Mistakenly, as it would seem. He tugged off a leather glove and winced as Wraithguard slid over his skin. It didn’t hurt persay but the protective enchantments on the gauntlet were always ready to lash out at intruders. He could feel it, like thousands of needles hidden behind a cloth, just ready to slice through to the intruder who dared attempt to wield it. After it had settled on his hand, the beneficial enchantments reluctantly washed over him like cold water. All in all, Nevano wasn’t overly fond of Wraithguard. 

Keening was a different story. Like its sibling, Sunder, Keening had a protective ward on it. It wasn’t very pretty; it would attach itself to the bare skin of the unprepared and suck the life out of them like an evil leech. It wasn’t as prickly as Wraithguard though. When he picked up Keening it was far more willing to allow its enchantments help him out. It never warmed to him like Truefire and Hopesflame did. It was fairly indifferent. The only time he had felt it was when he had been destroying the heart. It had flared to life in his hand, almost HAPPY he had destroyed the accursed thing. But then it had gone silent and hadn’t given off an aura since. 

But this time, when he picked up Keening it felt…different. He could feel Keening try to enact its enchantments but it sputtered and died. Nevano frowned as Keening lay pretty much inert in his hand. Wraithguard was just as powerful as it always was, if not more abrasive than normal, but Keening had been through a much rougher route. It was completely drained and Nevano wasn’t sure if he could recharge it…or even if he should. 

“What happened to you?” He murmured to the blade. Of course he wasn’t expecting it to answer…and as long as Nerevar stayed quiet too he could live with the unanswered question. But by oblivion Keening was such a shadow of its former self he was pretty sure it could be handled by simply wrapping a cloth around its hilt. But why did the bandits leave it if they could handle it? Nevano really doubted that these bandits would know Keening when they saw it. Or had Keening given the last of its power to killing the first bandit that handled it? That was a good possibility. 

But it still brought to mind; why did Arniel want Keening? How did he know where to find it and, most importantly, HOW did someone get Keening out of its hiding spot? Nevano gave an annoyed grunt as he made a temporary scabbard for Keening and strapped it to his back. This was going to be something he would have to look into at some point. His stomach clenched at the thought. This meant he was going to have to go back to Morrowind. Not right now though…first he needed to have a chat with Arniel. Time to make the long trek back to Winterhold. It was time to go. 

XxXxXx

Nevano placed a wrapped up Keening on Arniel’s table wordlessly. He had had a week to get over his shock on his hike back. Actually it had taken him less than a day to get over the shock. After that had come the anger. He had made some excellent time through the wilderness burning off that anger. After a while even the bears thought twice about messing with him and more than one wolf had run from him without even offering to growl. Two days later the fire of his anger had died down and he was left with a numbness he couldn’t quite explain. 

“Oh you got the package!” Arniel immediately ran over, carefully unwrapping the blade, being very careful not to touch what was underneath, confirming Nevano’s suspicions he knew exactly what he had ordered, “Those idiots! It wasn’t wrapped properly. I’m surprised you weren’t killed when you touched it…” 

Nevano didn’t say anything. He was fairly certain if he tried, his anger would return full force and that wouldn’t accomplish anything right now. 

“I guess I should tell you what I’ve been planning…in full I mean.” Arniel said, still messing with Keening, “You already know that I wanted to figure out how the Dwemer disappeared and it took me a long time to gather all the research. See, Kagrenac created three tools to tap into the Heart of Lorkhan: Wraithguard, Keening and Sunder…” Nevano quit paying attention at that point as Arniel launched into the full history of the tools. He was more than familiar with that particular bit of history, intimately familiar. “What I find interesting is that Keening still has power…I mean, yes I expected the mortal wound effect to still be there but I didn’t expect there to still be any sort of enchantment. Wraithguard, Sunder and Keening, like the Tribunal, drew their power from the heart. The heart was supposedly destroyed back when the Nerevarine killed Dagoth Ur. Their power SHOULD have diminished by now. I couldn’t find Wraithguard or Sunder so I can’t compare…but Keening should suffice.”

Nevano’s mind was reeling. The tools drew their power from the heart? But…the heart was destroyed! He was the one to destroy the damned thing…he had seen it, heard it, FELT it be destroyed. What is Azura’s name was going on?

“That’s why I got the soul gem charged up, so that Keening could draw power from it. But with Keening’s remaining power, augmented by the soul gem, I can definitely recreate what happened to the Dwemer. See they didn’t just disappear, they went into another dimension entirely using the tools!”

Nevano blinked. That…actually made some semblance of sense. But really he didn’t CARE at this point. There were far more pressing issues about the TOOLS than about a centuries-lost race.

“Look Arniel…after you conduct your experiment…” Nevano said slowly, still conflicted on just WHAT he should tell the man, “There’s a few things we need to discuss…and I have a lot of questions for you.”

“Of course. But right now, let’s see if this works!” Arniel eagerly went over to where he had the charged warped soul gem up on a dais. Nevano stood back. He didn’t understand magic all that well but he knew Keening and he knew just how bad things could go when it came to mage experiments. He had heard explosions coming from the Chorrol Mages Guild hall, and there had been rumors of one mage getting himself stuck in a nightmare realm. If something were to go catastrophically wrong with this little experiment he didn’t want to be caught in the cross fire. 

Arniel took a deep breath and picked up Keening with his bare hand. “Ah! The spell worked!”

“Spell?”

“I found a spell that would protect me from Keening’s protective wards for a short time. I only have about 5 minutes before it wears off.”

Arniel swung Keening through the air and struck the soul gem. Nevano cringed when Keening produced a high-pitched hum. It was the same hum he had heard when he had attacked the Heart of Lorkhan. Suddenly the room flashed red and a searing heat assaulted his skin. It lasted only an instant but it was enough to leave the mer rattled. 

“Nothing…no that can’t be…” Arniel swung again. Again nothing happened but the hum became more intense. 

Nevano recoiled back against the wall, his heart pounding. Keening was giving the mage a clear warning to stop, that this wasn’t right. But he either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear it. Nevano clawed at his ears and rocked back and forth. “Once with Sunder then with Keening, once with Sunder then with Keening, once with Sunder then with Keening…” he muttered to himself over and over, trying so very hard to keep himself grounded, to keep himself from getting sucked deeper into the flashback. 

“Stupid thing…I KNOW this should work!” Arniel cursed, oblivious to his audience’s plight. “Work damn you!” He struck a third time.

Keening produced an eardrum-shattering shriek just as the world inverted itself. Nevano doubled over, hands clapped over his sensitive ears. He could imagine the explosion of energy as the heart exploded, he could hear Dagoth Ur’s outraged scream as his immortality was severed. 

The sensation ended just as suddenly as it begun, leaving the world as calm as if nothing had ever happened. Keening, suspended in mid-air for a brief moment, clattered to the ground, making Nevano wince badly but the noise made him open his eyes, the horrible images in his head disappearing as cold stone walls closed back around him. Arniel was nowhere to be seen though.

Slowly, warily, Nevano peeled himself off the wall. He was covered in a cold sweat, his heart still racing. He desperately wanted to just curl into a ball in a corner and wait for the crippling anxiety to pass but he knew that as long as he was in here, around that warped soul gem that had just sucked in Arniel, the thing that reminded him far far too much of the heart, he wouldn’t be able to calm down. He needed to leave. Now. 

As he turned to go, he saw Keening still sitting on the floor where it had fallen. As much as he didn’t want to bring the accursed thing with him, he couldn’t just leave Keening here, especially not after what he just saw. He wrapped Keening up again and hastily shoved it in his pack. He needed to figure out just what was going on. He needed to find out how Keening was found, he needed to find out just what was meant by Keening drawing power from the Heart of Lorkhan and its power STILL lingering in this world and, above all, he needed a drink. 

XxXxXx

Nevano sat in a corner of the Frozen Hearth Inn, as far into the shadows as he could get without missing out on the lovely heat from the fire. The inn really wasn’t that crowded, nothing in Winterhold ever was, but that suited him just fine. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, not after that. His mind was trying to sort through what he had just witnessed up at the college but mostly it was coming up with…nothing. There was just a nonsensical buzz that, every time he tried to reach in to untangle the web of thoughts trapped in there, only buzzed louder and slipped out of his grasp like water. After a while he just gave up and bought another brandy. 

The inn’s door opening, letting in a draft that made the fire flicker, interrupted his brooding. His gaze flickered up, mostly to glare at the Nord walking in for allowing precious heat to escape the building. A snowstorm was blowing outside, driving all but the guards on duty and the foolhardy indoors. Nevano still wasn’t used to the cold climate even on calm sunny days. It would take a lot of convincing to get him out in this weather. 

“Are you Nevano?” The Nord had come over to him at his lonely corner table, “I was told to look for a Dunmer in Winterhold that wasn’t a mage. I have a letter for you.” The courier patted at his vest, searching for his note, “Where did I put…ah yes, here we are. For you.” He handed over a slightly crumpled, much folded letter. “There you are sir!”

Nevano took it and glanced at it, pausing only to toss a coin at the courier. Once the courier left he unfolded the letter and read the untidy scrawl.

I need your help. Meet me in Whiterun, at the Bannered Mare.

-Gunjar

Nevano didn’t need to think twice. He swallowed the last of his drink, grabbed his pack, pulled his hood over his face, and walked out of the inn into the swirling snow. It was time to go again.

XxXxXx


	14. Warm Weather Brings Out The Crazy

Chapter 13

Warm Weather Brings Out The Crazy

XxXxXx

Whiterun, Skyrim – Midyear 4E 201

It was significantly warmer in Whiterun since the last time he was here. Of course, that had been back in the beginning of the year, still during the cold part of the year. Now it was high summer and the landscape had completely transformed. Mousy brown bracken had sprouted beautiful delicate purple blooms, white flowers with bright yellow centers bloomed in between spreads of blue, yellow, purple and red mountain flowers. The crisp air was now sweetened like honey with the scent of thousands of flowers. Elk and deer had shed their thick winter coats and were slicked out for the summer, darting in and out of the thick grasses as Nevano passed by.

The warmer air also seemed to make Whiterun’s citizens come alive. Instead of the curious, yet icy, reception he had gotten the first time he had walked through the streets, they were far more welcoming to the outsider walking among the market stalls. The warm air also did wonders for Nevano. The more distance he put between himself and Winterhold the more his nerves settled. Keening stayed safely strapped to his back and Wraithguard secured to his belt. Though the feeling of them back in their old spots brought him some memories he’d rather stayed hidden in a corner of his mind, he felt secure that they were safe with him.

The Bannered Mare was just as raucous and cozy as it had been when he had last visited it, the fire still roaring in the center of the room and drunk Nords laughing and telling ridiculous and obviously much embellished stories of their exploits while chugging down impossible amounts of mead. Gunjar was easy to find; he was the only quiet one in the entire building, tucked away into a corner. 

Nevano sat down at the table, catching Saadia’s eye as she passed and giving her a flirty grin, getting a warm smile in return, before turning his attention to the Nord in front of him. “You…look horrible.”

“It’s been a long few months my friend.” Indeed Gunjar looked terrible. Dark circles bagged under his eyes, making him look like he had been punched in the face multiple times. He looked like he needed a stiff drink, a good meal and a few days of solid sleep, “Very long few months…though I think things are coming to a head.”

“Look, why don’t I at least buy you something to eat and you fill me in on what happened.” Nevano pulled out a small pouch of septims and waved Saadia over, “I still owe you dinner for making a joke in the Thalmor Embassy. You look like you need it anyway.”

Gunjar gave him a grateful smile and over the next hour, and an impressive amount of food, filled the Dunmer in on what he had been working on. Apparently after they had gone their separate ways outside Solitude, Gunjar had gone down to Riften and rescued the Blade Esbern from Thalmor agents in the Ratway. They had then met back up with Delphine in Riverwood and journeyed all the way to the Reach to find Sky Haven Temple, Skyrim’s version of Cloud Ruler Temple. After that, Gunjar had journeyed BACK to the Throat of the World, met with a dragon of all things on the very summit of the mountain, gone back across the continent to search for an Elder Scroll, delved into a Falmer infested Dwemer ruin, gone back to the mountain, battled Alduin and now was back in Whiterun because in order to defeat Alduin once and for all there was a very…convoluted plan that Gunjar seemed very hesitant to explain. All in just a few months time. 

Nevano blinked, “So…Alduin was the dragon we saw in Helgen. He’s been raising up dead dragons to be his minions and they all hold a grudge against humans. Does that make them zombies? Oh and you can only beat him by going to the Nord afterlife and kill him before he can build himself back up from your last fight by eating Nordic souls?” Nevano tilted his head back and forth, “This will definitely make for a great story once you beat him. What do you need help with?”

“Just like that?”

“A Nord asks a Dunmer for help in defeating a dragon sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.” Nevano tipped back his bottle of beer. He had no idea WHY he kept drinking this stuff. It never got any better no matter how many times he tried it, “I actually like bad jokes. I used to have bad joke contests with my old guild mates, see who could tell the worst joke possible. Got in trouble more than once for telling horrible jokes when potential clients came in and they would turn right back around and leave. Used to piss off Modryn to no end. My point is, a friend asked me for help. So yes…just like that, I’ll help.”

“Who’s Modryn?” Nevano looked up at Gunjar. The young Nord looked back, eagerly awaiting his answer. The elf was hesitant, really hesitant. This subject was still…tender. In fact, he wasn’t sure he COULD tell it but Gunjar…Nevano felt his defenses melt. Gunjar desperately needed to hear a story, a good one. He had just been through hell and back again and he was about to go through it again. He felt like he owed this kid, the only actual friend he had in this land, to tell him the story, HIS story.

“Modryn Oreyn was the champion of the Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil back some 25 years. He had been a part of the guild for…several hundred years. He had been her champion for as long as I can remember.” Nevano leaned back in his chair, “The guild WAS his life. He was a fighter born and bred. I know he was born in Morrowind but other than him telling me he came to Cyrodiil when he was pretty young, I don’t know the whole story. I never asked. Anyway, the mer was good at his job. Actually that’s an understatement. He was GREAT at his job. He took good care of the guild and all the fighters in it, sometimes he was the ONLY one to take care of the guild and its fighters. But by the NINE was the man short-tempered. He was grumpy, cranky and pushed you to your limit and beyond. It was great.”

“Great?” Gunjar snorted into his mead.

“Oh yeah. See, if you gave it your all and didn’t act like a complete idiot, you would get along just fine with him. Acts of stupidity would get you screamed at, cussed at, head slammed into a wall or thrown clean out of the guild hall and into the great oak tree.” Nevano grinned as fond memories surfaced, “Actually he would bellow and curse anyway. If a new boot could stand one round of Modryn’s ‘pep talks’ then they would make it in the guild just fine. If they ran away crying, they would likely quit within a week or two. I loved watching all of that. We would actually sit around and wait to see who the idiot of the day would ignite that temper. He yelled at me too of course but it rarely bothered me. I got the job done…he would just nitpick at me if I did something that he considered stupid. The things he considered stupid I considered ‘acceptable risks’. I said agree to disagree but he never agreed to that… ”

“You speak of him very fondly.”

“Yes…” Nevano sighed and leaned against the table, looking for a bottle that had something left in it, “You see, I was born an Ashlander. But I was stolen from my family and tribe as an infant, a raid by either a rival tribe or slavers. They took whoever they could capture and sold them into slavery. I was considered a novelty because of my eyes. I was sold as a…house pet of sorts I guess you could say. I won’t go into the unpleasantness of my childhood but suffice to say it was really ugly. I ran away, I spit, I clawed, I fought, I did whatever I could to make my…ugh I hate saying ‘owner’, my… ‘tormentors’, there that’s better, to make their lives that much more difficult. Because I was a Dunmer and apparently worth some value, I kept being sold to someone else who wanted to deal with me instead of just killed outright. Eventually, after dealing with the worst scum that Morrowind had to offer, I was sold illegally to some bastard in Cyrodiil. It’s been so long I can’t remember his name but there I hit rock bottom. I was…ready to die then. But Modryn saved me. He took me in; got me healthy, taught me how to speak common, taught me how to defend myself…just took care of me. He was the first to ever show me kindness. No one had ever done that for me my entire life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. I’d be long dead. He was the closest thing to a f..to a fa…”

“A father?”

The very word, so simple, rocked Nevano to his very core. How he wished he had been able to say that way back when! “You know…I never called him that, not to his face. I was…too late. The Thalmor sacked Chorrol during the Great War. Most of the fighting men were off at the Imperial City so it was mostly civilians. No real resistance, no real reason for the Thalmor to attack. But they did. Modryn fought. He was an old mer by then but he wasn’t one to ever let something like age stop him. He fought to defend his home, his fighters…but the Thalmor killed him. He was already dead by the time I got there. I lost it. I slaughtered every Thalmor in that city except one. I cut his tongue out and sent him running back to the Thalmor army as a message of…I don’t know what message I was trying to send. I was just mad. Modryn was the only thing I had in this world and they took him from me. After I lost him, I lost myself. I wandered for years trying to lose myself until I came here and met you on a cart bound for Helgen.” 

“You never got the chance to tell him did you?”

“I’m fairly positive he always knew. My dumb arse just waited too long to say it.”

“Oh it’s never too late.” Gunjar suddenly brightened, “See, I never knew my father. He had gone off to the Great War and got killed by the time I was born. It was just my mother and I, the gods bless her soul, and I was…a bit of an ungrateful child. I wanted to go out and be a great warrior like my father. As I grew older, her health started to fail. I never noticed, I was too busy running around our farm swinging a wooden sword and terrorizing the animals by pretending they were bandits or daedra or something like that. As soon as I was old enough, I ran off and joined a mercenary band. Two years later, my mother died. I went back…just the one time. See, I never said good-bye to my mother when I left…but I got to say good-bye one last time. I know she heard me. Hopefully she’s proud enough of me that if I see her when I go to Sovngarde to defeat Alduin she won’t hit me upside the head.”

Nevano shook his head, “You never cease to amaze me how you can be so damn cheerful even in the most depressing of conversation topics. So, now that you have effectively distracted me from our original subject.” Nevano tapped his fingers on the table, “Exactly what did you want my help with?”

“Oh ah, well…you see…” Gunjar rubbed the back of his head, going from somber to cheerful to sheepish in record time, not meeting the elf’s eyes, “It’s…it’s an insane idea. Paarthurnax was the one who suggested it. See, Dragonsreach here in Whiterun was actually called that because it really once held a dragon a long time ago. It was…basically a pet.”

“Gunjar…”

“So this plan…its crazy, insane and extremely dangerous… but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think without a shadow of a doubt it would help.”

“Gunjar…” 

“I mean, I know the keep is old and its mostly historical now but it can be done!”

“Gunjar, stop evading me and stretching this out like you’re trying to propose marriage to me. If you get down on one knee or pull out that amulet of Mara or whatever, I’m going to throw this beer in your face, tell you NO and walk out of here.” Nevano sighed, “You’re going to trap an Azura damned dragon in the jarl’s keep aren’t you?”

“Oh yes.” Gunjar nodded, “I got the Shouts to bring it in and everything. I just need permission from Jarl Balgruuf. I just doubt he’ll give it…”

“You are putting a LIVE DRAGON in his keep. I doubt he’ll be thrilled with this prospect.”

“Yes well…shall we go? I’ve been putting this off for well over a week waiting for you to get here.”

“Would you like me to hold your hand while you ask him?”

“Shut up, elf.”

Jarl Balgruuf was, understandably, rather hesitant but not for the reasons they originally foresaw. Nevano was completely shocked when, after thoroughly outlining the plan, he agreed to allow Gunjar to trap a dragon in his keep…and was immediately unsurprised to hear the catch: Gunjar had to find a way to call a temporary cease-fire to the civil war so Whiterun could remain safe (or as safe as it would be with a live angry dragon in the middle of it). Apparently not even dragons and the threat of the end of the world was enough to stop the civil war and Whiterun was apparently in the sights of both the Stormcloaks and the Imperials.

“Are you sure about this?” Nevano asked as they hiked along the road to Ivarstead, “From what I’ve heard the Greybeards are these legendary hermits that no one is really sure they exist.”

“Oh they exist.” Gunjar said confidently, “And they are the only neutral party in Skyrim.”

Nevano opened his mouth.

“The only neutral party respected enough to broker a temporary ceasefire. No one will dare assassinate the other at High Hrothgar.” Gunjar quickly corrected, “Stop smirking, I knew what I meant, it’s not my fault you nitpick.”

“Of course I nitpick!” Nevano’s smirk grew into a grin, “I told you about the man who raised me! I learned from the very best!”

“Talos save us!”

“That won’t make you very popular with the Thalmor will it?” Nevano ducked as Gunjar chucked a rock at him.

It took them two days to travel to Ivarstead. It was a pretty walk for Nevano, who had spent several months fighting his way through snow and ice. High summer had come to The Rift too, making the trek far easier though it certainly made things interesting as frisky bears often came bounding out of the woods to play. Of course ‘play’ actually meant ‘play with your food until you finally settle down to eat the battered corpse’. They must have killed half a dozen bears along the way. Other than that and the lone saber cat that Gunjar scared off with a Thu’um, the walk was quiet. That is, until the strangers came along. 

Nevano heard them before he saw them. It was impossible not to: they were running along, crashing through the undergrowth like pair of drunken giants with no regard to stealth. He frowned and rapped on Gunjar’s heavy armor to get his attention and pointed out into the woods when the Nord turned around. He didn’t draw his swords yet, not yet, but he stood ready to draw at a second’s notice. Finally they came crashing up. There were two of them. Nevano couldn’t tell what race or gender they were as they were completely covered in ragged brown robes and a strange skull-like mask. Nevano felt the muscles in his stomach tighten; these two stunk of crazy. 

“You there!” one called out to Gunjar, ignoring Nevano completely, “You’re the one they call Dragonborn?”

Something about the way they said it confirmed Nevano’s initial impression of crazy. What he could see of their eyes through the mask were bright and maniacal. At best they were two idiots who came up with a crazy theory on their own over too much drink or hallucinogenic mushrooms. At worst, they were cultists. Slightly hidden by his cloak, he slid his hands to the hilts of his swords. Judging by the way Gunjar tipped one shoulder forward, the shoulder that the haft of his massive axe hung over, he was getting the same impression. 

“Yes, I am the Dragonborn. Who are you?” 

“Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver!” The other leaped forward, drawing a dagger, “The True Dragonborn comes! You are but his shadow!”

Gunjar whipped his axe forward off his back, easily slicing through the flimsy cloth and opening the madman’s chest before he could even strike with his dagger. Blood gushed like a waterfall and he dropped to the dusty ground like a sack of flour. The other raised his hands, his fingers starting to glow blue. Then blue fire erupted from the robed figure’s chest. Gunjar jumped back, positive it was a powerful spell until the robed figure screamed and tried to grab at it, but succeeded only in slicing off a few fingers on the incredibly sharp Hopesfire. Finally he went down too. Gunjar looked up at Nevano. 

“Damn crazy cultists.” Nevano said, tugging at Hopesfire, “Nothing completes a nice warm sunny day than insane s’wits in robes screaming one thing or another jumping at you.” 

“Who ARE these guys?”

“Crazies?” Nevano shrugged and managed to tug his sword free. He gave the command for the flames to bank so he could clean the blood off, “You’ve become well known enough that the basket cases should be crawling out of their holes now.”

Gunjar frowned and held up a note “ ‘Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Gunjar before he reaches Solstheim. Return with word of you success, and Miraak shall be most pleased’…what in the nine hells is this? Solstheim? Where is Raven Rock?”

Nevano sighed, “Yes, Solstheim. Raven Rock is a settlement on the island, used to be an Imperial settlement. East Empire Company if I remember right. Had ebony mines there. Seems you got a crazy fetcher to deal with after you kill Alduin.”

“Nevano…” Gunjar sighed and crumpled the note in his fist, “This is…far more than I bargained for.”

“Don’t think on it.” Nevano said bluntly, taking the note and setting it on fire with the meager, and only, fire spell he knew. “You have a job to do NOW. Focus on that. This…Miraak, whoever he is, can wait. Alduin cannot. Insane soul-sucking dragon beats out maniac every time. Oh, and by the way, a hero’s work is never done. Generally you don’t complain about lack of work once you become a big fancy hero. Everyone wants you to do something.”

“Have you ever been through something like this?”

“Oh yeah. I was still trying to get all the little prophecies completed, I was being chased by Ordinators, I couldn’t really sleep because there was a chance an ash vampire would find me through my dreams, everyone feared and hated me because I was a heretic and no one wanted to be arrested for helping me…and then I get attacked by the Dark Brotherhood of all things. Someone ordered a gods damned HIT on me. But I had to choose: Dagoth Ur or Dark Brotherhood? I chose Dagoth Ur. It took…a good several months before I was healed up enough after that to go searching for the source of the hit but its one step at a time. After all this, after you and I go our separate ways for good, I still have things I need to check up on. Work is never done, evil never sleeps and all those fancy sayings.”

“Who did put out the hit on you?”

“His esteemed majesty, King Hlaalu Helseth.”

“Wait wait…the KING of Morrowind put out a Dark Brotherhood hit on Morrowind’s greatest hero??”

“Yes yes he did, the prick.” Nevano finally sheathed Hopesfire, satisfied it was clean. “I’m enjoying this ego stroking by the way.” 

“Prissy elf.” Gunjar rolled his eyes, “So Alduin first…then Solstheim. Feel up to a vacation?”

“Solstheim is NOT a vacation.” Nevano kicked the bodies off to the side of the road. The wildlife would take care of the rest. “NOTHING about that island is a vacation. It’s cold, it’s infested with all sorts of things like horkers the size of those big hairy horses you Nords like so much, rieklings that ride on pigs, by the way the pigs are delicious, and let’s not forget the were-beasts because not all weres come in wolves. Yes, a real nice vacation. Just come right out and say it: You want me to come with you and bring my witty charm and amazing sword arm.”

“Oh look there’s Ivarstead!”

“Lucky for you, Nord!”

They didn’t stay long in the tiny town, just long enough to stock up before heading up the mountain. Nevano wasn’t the most experienced mountain climber (he rather doubted that time in Red Mountain counted so much as mountain climbing as it was pure survival) so he allowed Gunjar to dictate what they stocked up on while he fended off a desperately bored and curious young woman. She had never seen a Dunmer before and asked nonstop questions at rapid-fire speed. Finally Gunjar, who could barely stop laughing long enough to get a full sentence out, told the girl to go home. Nevano stayed plastered to the wall as she left, his ears ringing from her constant chatter. Finally, after Gunjar spent a good twenty minutes convincing Nevano that the girl wouldn’t accost them again when they passed her family’s farm, they made their way to the bottom of the 7,000 Steps.

Nevano sighed as he looked up at the path that wound up and up and up. This was not like climbing Red Mountain. This wasn’t like hiking through the Colovian Highlands west of Chorrol. This was a mountain that, should it so desired, could wipe out anyone climbing its slopes with a simple puff of frigid mountain air. Even in the hottest weather, the mountain was always cloaked in snow and, even though it was the middle of summer, it wasn’t unheard of for violent snowstorms to build up on the slopes. If Nevano were honest with himself he’d admit he was more than a little intimidated. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t say anything as they started up the path.

“Is it really 7,000 steps? Or is it 7,000 actual foot steps to the top?” Nevano wondered out loud after a while, watching the fifteenth goat in the past five minutes bounce on by. 

“I think it’s because there are 7,000 steps carved into the mountain path.” Gunjar answered, “I didn’t stop to count the last few times I was here…”

“Just wondering. Please don’t start counting…” Nevano said rubbing at his eyes. The sun was reflecting off the snow, producing a glare that was slowly becoming unbearable. He tried closing his eyes so that he was looking through his lashes, a trick for keeping ash off his eyes, but even that didn’t help. He could only squeeze his eyes shut against the stinging pain. He tried to keep his eyes closed and open them occasionally to make sure he was still following Gunjar, but every time he opened his eyes even the slightest bit, blinding light whited out his vision in an agonizing flash that didn’t fade. 

“Nevano? Are you ok?” Gunjar finally asked, “You nearly walked off the path…”

Nevano didn’t answer him right away. Instead he dropped to his knees in the snow and dug blindly through his pack until his fingers found the smooth surface of what he was looking for. Stowed away in a side pocket was a scrap of an old boiled netch leather helm. Actually it was just the protective eye lenses. Normally Nevano didn’t bother wearing a helm. He just could never reconcile the feeling of something on his head, constricting his movement or his field of vision. However he had taken the lenses off the netch leather helmet and fashioned it into a band that went around his head. He had only worn them while wandering the Ashlands during ash storms. He had forgotten about them until now but maybe they could help alleviate the pain he was in now or at least allow him to keep his eyes open for longer than an instant. 

“Oh you have snow blindness.”

“Snow blindness? Are you kidding me?” Nevano exclaimed, “I knew snow was possibly the most uncomfortable thing nature could throw at you but it can BLIND you as well?”

“Not permanently…usually.” Gunjar said, “If you go indoors for a few days after you first feel the pain you’ll be ok. I’ve seen some mountain men come in with their eyes nearly swollen shut and bleeding from staying out too long. The older ones who’ve had repeated bad cases like that say they see black spots in their vision. But if you wear those lenses it should help.”

Nevano slipped the darkened lenses over his eyes and nearly groaned in relief, “Dunmer weren’t made for snow. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. But somehow, we inadvertently came up with some pretty good protective gear. Thank you ash storms.”

“You know, the way you talk about Morrowind, I don’t know if I want to visit or not.”

“I would encourage you to visit…” Nevano looked up at him and grinned, “I just don’t think you have the stomach for it.”

“I don’t have the sto…what are you saying, elf?” Gunjar asked with a mock growl.

Nevano laughed, “Not many can handle our idea of fine dining.”

“Oh? What is Dunmer cuisine like then?”

“Ever heard of Kwama?” Nevano smirked, though his stomach growled as he thought about the foods he greatly missed from his homeland, “It’s an insect-like creature that lays these massive eggs that’re bigger than a chicken. We also eat the kwama themselves. So you take some scrib jelly, which is deliciously sour, pour it over a whole mudcrab, add some hot spices mixed with a touch of canis root and marshmerrow and all of that boiled together and served over saltrice.”

“Wait, the WHOLE mudcrab?” 

“Yup! Don’t waste potential meat.” Nevano said, “Oh and rat meat stew. Lots and LOTS of spices added to the meat then thrown in the pot, maybe some nix hound meat too, and throw in some hackle-lo leaves for a bit of fresh flavor. Can add a few other vegetables in there but it can stand alone as a meat stew. Delicious. Of course, don’t forget the scrib jelly. Once you get used to that stuff…I’ll slather it on anything.”

Gunjar made a face, “Ok ok I see your point. Just…stop. I don’t want to hear anymore about your weird eating habits.” 

“Hey in harsh environment like that you eat what you can!” Nevano’s smirk took on a wicked edge, “Why do you think there are no horses in Morrowind? The Imperials brought them to Vvardenfell…and the Dunmer promptly ate them. That was a meal NO ONE could resist. That and they were eating a LOT of saltrice and whickwheat. Can’t have that.”

“Enough!”

Nevano laughed. Thanks to his Dunmer heritage he had a stomach made of steel. There wasn’t much he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, eat. Morrowind, and Vvardenfell in particular, was a harsh environment, where anything that had the slightest possibility of being edible was eaten, including a few things that SHOULDN’T be edible but was consumed anyway. The result was an incredibly interesting array of foods that often scared off those who weren’t prepared to eat parts of an animal that other, more abundant places, often considered trash. 

As they climbed higher and the air got thinner, Nevano found it far easier to concentrate on pulling air into his lungs than to carry on any sort of conversation. The Throat of the World was far taller than any mountain in either Cyrodiil or Morrowind. His lungs simply weren’t used to working for useable air this high up. Then, to add insult to injury, it started snowing. Not the cute fluffy flakes that children like to play in. It was snowing thick, heavy clumps that felt like rain when it hit. 

By the time they got to the steps of High Hrothgar, Nevano was a very unhappy mer. He was chilled to the bone, to the point where every step was felt like needles were stabbing him mercilessly and his digits were completely numb. The snow hadn’t let up in the slightest, instead it had gotten worse. Wind-driven waves slapped Nevano in the face far worse than any scorned woman could manage…and he had encountered quite a few of those in his life. But no woman, no matter how upset he had gotten her, had ever threatened to freeze his ears to the point he was a bit concerned they would snap clean off. At least he could see. The lenses made it so that he wasn’t worried about wind-whipped tears freezing to his face. Small comfort. 

“We’re here.”

Nevano looked up to a massive dark stone building that seemed to grow right out of the side of the mountain. He had seen far more welcoming prisons: the icy stones were dark and forbidding, lit only by the offering fire in front of steps. “Ok I keep seeing those creepy looking carvings on everything. What is that?” Nevano pointed to the very archaic carving he had first seen on the doors to Dustman’s Cairn on the massive doors to High Hrothgar. Though he had gotten used to seeing them, it didn’t make them any less disturbing. 

“A dragon.” Gunjar went up the steps. “A lot of ancient Nord history is tied to the dragons so they’re everywhere.”

“Right. Because something that looks like a cross between a goat and a dremora couldn’t be anything BUT a dragon…” Nevano muttered, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. 

“If you get right down to it, a dragon IS a cross between with a goat and a dremora…just with wings.” Gunjar pushed the heavy doors open. 

Nevano’s reply died on his tongue as blessed warmth washed over him as several massive braziers flared brightly, fighting back against the harsh wind. At that moment he honestly didn’t care that High Hrothgar was decorated in that ancient disconcerting dragon-style. He couldn’t care less if a dragon with dremora horns and bleating like a goat sent from Mehrunes Dagon himself came swooping down. There was warmth. He could feel his body slowly thawing, the snow that had settled into all the little crevices on his clothing was melting. At this rate, he was going to wet for the next week, or he was going to re-freeze and be a solid block of ice. Neither prospect sounded great but it was better than being outside with the snow and wind. 

“Who is this?” Nevano’s ears twitched. The old man who approached them spoke with a voice that, at first glance, seemed frail. But there was a definite note of power in there. A power that Nevano had heard in Gunjar’s voice, especially when the young Nord got angry. “Not a Blade then? What happened? We heard the Dragonrend shout from here. Did you defeat him?”

“Oh no. Arngeir this is Nevano.” Gunjar said respectfully, “He’s been helping me. He’s not very fond of the Blades. And I did but Alduin escaped. I need to find his portal to Sovngard.”

“I feared as much. I thought it was him we saw flying east after your battle.”

“I need your help. I need to capture a dragon.” Gunjar blurted out bluntly. Nevano swore to himself mentally that one day he would teach this boy some semblance of subtly. 

“We are not warriors. What is overlooked in the Dragonborn is not permitted to any other followers of the Way of the Voice.” Arngeir said in a reproachful tone that set Nevano’s teeth on edge. 

“I’ll worry about capturing a dragon. I need your help to stop the war.”

“You misunderstand our authority. The Greybeards have never involved themselves in political affairs.” Nevano really had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Arngeir sounded entirely too much like the priests of the Divines. They droned on about not getting involved with anything but would happily tell you how to live your life while be very clear about their displeasure in certain (most) life choices. 

“Jarl Balgruuf won’t help me while the war rages.”

“I see. The dragon will lead you to Alduin, but without the Jarl’s help…” 

“Both sides respect the Greybeards. They will listen.”

“Paarthurnax has made the decision to help you. This is the road we have to walk. Even the Greybeards must bend to the winds of change, it seems.” Arngeir looked into the flickering flames of the brazier, “So be it. Tell Ulfric and General Tullius that the Greybeards wish to speak to them. We will see if they still remember us.”

“There’s no need for you to travel all the way to both Windhelm AND Solitude.” Nevano spoke up, a little alarmed that Gunjar would actually turn right around and run back down the mountain. He didn’t really think to run across the entire province did he? “That’ll take weeks you don’t have. Send a raven to them, send a message to Whiterun to send a courier, something. They can climb the damn mountain themselves. No need for you to do so that many times. If they’re too prideful to not answer a well-worded message then we’ll send the next one attached to a dragon.” 

“The Dunmer is intuitive.” The Greybeard said, nodding sagely, “I would suggest that route as well.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Gunjar nodded and left to go write the letters. 

“I DO have a name you know…” Nevano muttered darkly to himself, following Gunjar into the depths of High Hrothgar. 

XxXxXx


	15. The End of the World-Eater

Chapter 14

The End of the World-Eater

XxXxXx

Raven Rock, Solstheim – Mid Year 4E 201

Captain Veleth looked out over Raven Rock from on top the northern cliffs, eyes narrowed as he searched for anything amiss. He had been pushing his patrol routes further and further out ever since he had returned from Blacklight, driven by a nagging apprehension that refused to settle. Things had only gone from bad to worse in the past few months, which hadn’t helped his stress levels any. 

It had all started not long after he returned. His guards had reported nothing out of the ordinary within the city walls but had noted a few oddities with the reavers’ movements. That had caught his attention and he had set out to investigate with a guard or two. The reavers were as thick as ash hoppers on the island and were as dangerous as they were stupid. Usually the bandits were easy enough to predict. They were very much creatures of habit and stayed to their own territories and routes. This time though, Veleth had passed through completely abandoned camps and followed their random trails through the remains of the forest all the way to the north of Tel Mithryn. That had really befuddled him as the reavers were terrified of the Telvanni wizard and avoided the giant mushroom tower at all costs. This time they had gone right along the shore, well within striking distance. That was when he had made the strangest discovery of his life. 

Reavers surrounded the Sun Stone, one of the All-Maker stones that dotted the island. Some had been kneeling in a circle around the stone, chanting and bowing to the stone while others busily went about constructing elaborate stonework, all the while chanting in the same low obnoxious drone. They had either not noticed the three Redoran openly watching them or hadn’t cared. Even when Veleth had boldly strode right up to them and tried to shake a reaver out of the trance, they had not paused in their work. 

They had returned to Raven Rock and a few days later, during a night patrol, Veleth noticed a few of his guards walking perfunctorily through town. At first he had thought they were sleepwalking. He had a few sleepwalkers in the ranks. He once had to drag one back after he wandered out of the gate. This time he had followed them to the Earth Stone on the edge of town and they started to do the exact same thing as the reavers had, chanting and bowing to the stone. He couldn’t get them to stop no matter how hard he had tried to snap them out of it. Over the course of the next few weeks more guards and even townspeople started to work on the stone, building the same stonework. The most maddening part of the whole thing was that nobody remembered a thing. In fact, most barely seemed to remember that the Beast Stone was even there. Veleth knew he had asked people about it but…he could barely remember what they had said. Every time he tried to bring up the memory of the conversation it would slip away like ash in the wind. It was absolutely maddening and he had no idea how to stop it. 

With a sigh he began to make his way back down. The mystery at the stones was not all that had been going on. A week ago Veleth had heard a strange roar echoing down from the mountains. He had heard many sounds roll down from the slopes before. Horkers often raised the most ruckus, bristlebacks, wolves and bears also had a tendency to wake people up in the middle of the night, but this roar…this was something that actually sparked fear in his heart. While in Blacklight he had heard stories of dragon attacks in Skyrim. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought that that roar came from a dragon. 

Not too long after that, the strangers had come into town. He never saw them himself, but his guards had reported that two robed figures had come in late in the evening and had gone straight to the docks. The next morning the ship for Skyrim was gone, along with the two strangers. That in and of itself didn’t raise any alarms, except that Gjalund wasn’t scheduled to leave for another two days. He hadn’t been too happy to hear of that.

“I was wondering where you were.” Veleth looked up to see Dreyla Alor walking towards him. He glanced around and stepped behind a rock outcrop so they could talk out of sight.

“Don’t worry. My father is busy arguing with Geldis about something.” She smiled a little wearily, “He caught Geldis in a bad mood. It’ll be a good hour before he settles down enough to think to look for me.”

Veleth rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. Dreyla was a grown woman. The fact that her father still would bellow and search for her like she was a small child was more than a little obnoxious, but obnoxious best described Fethis Alor. Fethis was, understandably, extremely protective of his daughter. He had lost his wife when the Argonians had invaded Morrowind and destroyed their village. It had haunted him ever since, causing him to second guess just about everything he did and hover over his grown daughter. Most people tolerated Fethis, for they held a certain amount of sympathy for him, but he was a rather over-bearing annoying fetcher when he got going. Dreyla often was the one going around soothing tempers that her father left ruffled in his wake. Veleth really didn’t care one way or the other about the man but his constant accusations that he was after Dreyla for the East Empire Company contracts were ludicrous and getting extremely old. 

“You’ve been incredibly tense lately.” Dreyla said gently, “Does this have anything to do with those strangers coming into town? I know you were upset you didn’t see them yourself…”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Veleth lied, “Don’t let that worry you.” Veleth frowned as he looked up at the sky. The hazy light filtering through the smoke from Red Mountain was slowly turning red. It was starting to look like an ash storm was trying to form. That would be the fourth one this month… “Dreyla, we should go into town. Seems another ash storm is coming.”

“Red Mountain certainly has been angry lately.” Dreyla looked across the bay where the silhouette of the volcano was barely discernable through the rising ash, “You know, I’ve heard rumors…”

“Rumors?” Veleth asked as he led her back in towards town. Outwardly he was doing his best to be polite to Dreyla but inwardly he wanted to scream in frustration. He was so sick and tired of rumors.

“One of the infrequent updates from my father’s East Empire Company contacts, whoever that may be.” She said, “Most of it is just nonsense. One rumor said that the Thalmor were doing something on Vvardenfell. They had found something or another. No one knows what but there’s supposed to be some big excavation.”

“The Thalmor…on Vvardenfell.” Veleth said skeptically, “There’s nothing there but ash and ruins. They have their sights set on bigger targets than to dig through ash and smoke. What else are you hearing?”

“Well…” Dreyla tapped her fingers on her elbows, “There’s been a lot of chatter about the Heart of Lorkhan…”

“The heart?” Veleth’s mind spun a little at that, “The heart was destroyed long before you and I were born!”

“You asked what rumors I heard…”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Veleth forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t fair to take it out on Dreyla. “Seems I’ve been doing nothing but chase rumors. I’m having a hard time with that lately.”

Dreyla pulled him into the shadow of one of the abandoned buildings, “Modyn, don’t lie to me. I know you’re tense and I know something is going on. You haven’t been sleeping, you’ve been short and your men are grumbling about your increasing…vigilance.”

“I feel like I’ve been watching shadows.” He finally admitted, well aware she was using the polite version of his men’s grumbling. “Watching and waiting for something to happen. I don’t know what and I don’t know who I’m looking for but I don’t think it’s going to be good. It’s like…watching Red Mountain and wondering if today is the day it will erupt again. I’m running on rumors and old stories and I’m not sure what is true or not anymore.”

“Modyn, you never did well with rumors.” Dreyla smiled, “If there was no concrete evidence, you weren’t interested. Now here you are, letting rumors bother you so badly.”

“Stupid, isn’t it?”

“No. I think you are being cautious.” Dreyla stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, “Whatever happened in Blacklight put you on high alert and you aren’t letting anything get past you. That stubborn persistence is something I always admired about you. Just don’t forget to eat or sleep, please.”

Veleth smiled and kissed her back, “With luck, the shadows and rumors will stay just that and all I have to do is watch for Hlaalu spies and drunk reavers thinking it’s hilarious to set each other on fire.”

Dreyla beamed broadly at him, “I have to go now, before my father starts bellowing. He’s been on edge as well. Gjalund is late and father has been expecting a shipment of some odds and ends. No need to incite further riot by being late.”

Veleth rolled his eyes again and gave her a kiss before she went off. As he turned to go back into town himself he winced slightly and rubbed at his left side as he made his way towards his normal patrol route. Definitely an ash storm on the way.

By the time afternoon came, the sky was brick red and every inhalation came with a mouthful of ash. The wind hadn’t fully picked up yet but if the stabbing pain in his left kidney was accurate, and it always was, it wouldn’t be long before the storm fully broke and most everyone would take shelter indoors. Everyone except the Redoran Guard that is. Ash storms were the perfect cover for reavers to launch a raid. Well…it used to. They weren’t as interested anymore with the mines dried up but they still liked to cause trouble just because they were bored and they could. 

Veleth stopped his patrol from on top the Bulwark, looking out into the shifting ash. At first glance there was nothing but empty landscape but something wasn’t right. The ash that was piling up was swirling against the wind. The captain shook his head. He couldn’t tell if he was just seeing things in the storm or if something really was happening. 

“Sir…the ash shouldn’t be doing that, should it?” the other guard on duty was also leaning over the side, watching the dancing ash. So it wasn’t his lack of sleep playing with his mind afterall. 

“Go get…” Veleth trailed off, staring incredulously as the ash swirled up. “What in Azura’s name is THAT?!”

As he watched in horror, the ash coalesced into the form of something that might have once been humanoid but it was impossible to tell now. It resembled a badly burned body; the ash formed a burning husk around its misshapen form. Limbs had buckled and bubbled under the super heated ash, its face was twisted into a horrible mask of anguish. It growled and snarled like a rabid bear and began to lurch towards the Bulwark.

Next to him, the guard shrank back, shaking. “It’s an ash vampire. Azura save us, the curse is back! We’re all going to be killed!”

“Get a hold of yourself!” Veleth barked, “It’s not an ash vampire. Ash vampires were actual living creatures but they are all gone with Dagoth Ur. This is NOT an ash vampire. Find your courage and go rally the guard! GO!” 

Honestly, Veleth had no idea just WHAT these things were. He hadn’t lied to the guard though; he was positive that this thing wasn’t an ash vampire. Ash vampires were minions of Dagoth Ur, twisted by magical means and driven insane by his mental manipulations. They had all once been men and mer and all had still drawn breath. This smoldering husk lumbering towards the Bulwark didn’t seem to be alive, didn’t seem to draw breath. Didn’t make it any less alarming though. 

All 15 of his guards came up on the wall, each of them taking a quick look at the monster below. Veleth carefully watched their reactions, not particularly liking what he saw. All but 3 recoiled to some degree when they saw the creature below. That didn’t bother him so much. What DID concern him were the few that jumped so badly he thought they were going to fall off the other side of the wall. That kind of reaction was going to get someone killed. He couldn’t have that. 

“I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea WHAT that thing is.” Veleth said, “However, I don’t tolerate creatures clawing at MY wall. We-”

“Uh, sir…I hate to interrupt but…more are rising!”

Mentally Veleth cursed colorfully as he turned just in time to see five more creatures rise from the ash. He leaned over to see what the original was doing and had to draw back quickly as a fireball flashed back at his face. Apparently, the things were not friendly. 

“Drarana, Brelo and Daynil. You three go continue patrol in town. If this is a reaver trick, we will not leave the town unguarded.” Veleth highly doubted that the reavers were smart enough or capable enough to summon a creature like this. However those three were the ones who had flinched the hardest. If they were going out there to fight these burning creatures, he needed the ones most likely to panic out of the way. This was the best way to keep them out of the way while saving face. “The rest of you, we need to stop these…whatever they are…”

“Ash spawn.” Veleth looked up at the twins Minassour and Zebduipal and raised an eyebrow. “Well…they spawned from the ash and they aren’t ash vampires right? Ash spawn.”

Veleth sighed. The twins often gave him headaches. “Sure. Ash spawn. Whatever. I don’t care what the damn things are called. You can give them names and birthdays for all I care but I want them killed before they start tearing down the Bulwark and getting into Raven Rock! Now listen up, Mirvon, Farvyn, Velyn, Tvynu and Kummi-Namus. You lot are our best archers. You stay up here and keep those things distracted. Ziron, Ralis, Alpia, Varon, Elo and the twins with me. We go in fast and hard. No playing around.” He directed that last bit at the twins. They were his more…enthusiastic guards. That was putting it mildly. He often spent more time chasing after them than he did chasing after reavers. “We are going in not knowing what these things can do. Stay on your guard. We need to keep Raven Rock safe.”

“Aw Captain, your girl will really be impressed after this!” Zebduipal piped up. His twin coughed to hide a laugh while the rest of the guards slapped their hands to their faces and groaned in exasperation. 

“Guess who is scraping Netch crap off the Bulwark for the next two weeks?” Veleth said cooly.

“It was worth it!”

Veleth rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment further. He would find some suitably annoying task for them to do later. Not too annoying, though. They inadvertently raised moral with their antics, distracted the rest of the guards. They had gotten over their initial fear and were standing a bit straighter now. They had a plan to follow and they had fools to distract them. All that was left now was to fight and win. 

“Just…go. Get below before I change my mind and just throw you both over the wall first.”

The Redoran guards ran into position, Veleth feeling confident that this wouldn’t be much of an issue. He had spent years training them and they had proven themselves time and again to be capable fighters. He just needed the twins to not do something “creative” while they were fighting. Like the time they tried to “get a reaver to flip midair” with one hit. One twin nearly got his head taken off and the other came away with broken armor and limping a little. Idiot twins. 

The newly dubbed ash spawn immediately turned their attention from clawing at the wall to the group of guards that came bristling through the gate. Veleth watched as crude swords formed in the creature’s hands, made of the same material that their bodies were composed of. Suddenly, this simple extermination of a pest was turning more into a battle. 

“Nchow…” Veleth muttered as he tightened his grip on his weapon. 

“Well, that’s new.” One of the twins muttered. 

“No more different than a reaver knowing how to summon a weapon.” Veleth growled, his fighting blood starting to boil, “Don’t give an inch, men! For Raven Rock!”

“For Raven Rock!” 

Veleth focused on an ash spawn and charged in. The ash spawn howled and raised its weapon to strike at Veleth’s face. It found that hard to do as Veleth buried his axe into its neck. The skeletal system of these things was not as complex as that of a man. His axe shattered through what he assumed was a shoulder bone but there were no ribs to halt his momentum. His weapon kept slicing through ashy skin, leaving a burning smoldering scar in its wake, until it buried itself into a spine. At least he thought it was a spine. It was easily twice as thick as a normal creature’s spine and his weapon got lodged in burning bone. 

Meanwhile, without any skeletal support, the arm holding the weapon fell limp. However, instead of blood spurting, Veleth instead got a face full of hot ash and the ash spawn swiping at him with the other hand. He caught a clout in the ear which made him jerk back, fortunately jerking his weapon loose at the same time. He slapped a hand to his ear. His gloved hand came away bloody. Adrenaline pumping through his veins prevented him from feeling the pain just yet. That would come later, after the fight was over. Right now, he was just plain angry. 

He swung his axe in a vicious upward stroke right underneath the ash spawn’s chest, trying to finish the cut he already started. It was a strike that would be a mortal wound in any other being, but without the telltale gush of blood it was almost unsatisfactory. Ash began to pour from the wound, causing the spawn to scream in Veleth’s face. He continued to follow through the swing, putting his weight behind it. More ash poured out and Veleth fell sideways as the spawn’s body began to completely disintegrate. He caught himself before he hit the ground and spun to watch the creature finish turning back into a pile of ash. That was…interesting. 

“What in oblivion…ugh, I got ash down my cuirass!” Veleth shook his head. It seemed the twins had at least refrained from being overly experimental and came through without a scratch. 

He looked around and watched with satisfaction as the last of the ash spawn were cut down easily by his men. It was a fairly easy fight; the half a dozen ash spawn did not stand a chance against his well trained guards. Good timing too. The wind picked up and the ash storm began to break over them. 

Veleth sighed as he watched the remains of the monster get blown away in the wind. This was just another problem without answers stacking up on all the other problems with no answers. Idly he considered going over to Tel Mithryn to see if that old wizard could perhaps shed some light on this but quickly nixed the idea. Neloth, by and large, ignored Raven Rock’s existence and the town, by and large, ignored him as well. Every now and then the over-worked steward would come into town for a few supplies. She wouldn’t speak to anyone, kept her eyes lowered and would immediately set back off to the strange giant mushroom tower once her errand was complete. No one in town was going to volunteer to go across the island, especially not after this attack, and Veleth couldn’t spare any of his guards in case there was another attack. He needed a break but there was none in sight. This…was going to require a lot of planning and more than a little luck. 

XxXxXx

Whiterun, Skyrim – Mid Year 4E201

Nevano stood next to Gunjar on the great porch of Dragonsreach, waiting for the jarl to arrive. After the peace talk meeting, which had turned into more of a power struggle of egos than actual temporary peace, the two had set off immediately for Whiterun. Gunjar had been quiet the whole time, barely uttering more than five words. Nevano understood and didn’t push him to speak. Playing the hero and diving into caves and sewers and ruins and doing the jobs no one else could was one thing, but facing a room full of political discourse was quite another. Nevano was positive that Gunjar had never been exposed to politics before beyond doing errands at the behest of someone else, like a jarl or the Blades. He had been…innocent. That was the best way to put it: innocent. Outside the dirty whirlpool of lies, deceit, words hidden in words and subterfuge. Gunjar represented a hero of old: the man who embodied strength, valor and the want to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Instead, he had been tossed into that den of wolves. Actually, Nevano amended himself, a den of kagouti. Big on acting tough, shaking their horns and snorting, but bring something much bigger into the picture and they would piss themselves and run. The whole negotiation had been an infuriating tug-of-war that left even Nevano, who had actually been expecting such a fiasco, feeling drained and exhausted. He could only imagine how Gunjar felt. 

“You are letting all that mess get to you.” Nevano said carefully.

“I…handed over cities. I displaced Jarls. Entire cities full of people were suddenly affected by MY choice. How can I not?”

“Gunjar, people would be far more affected if it all fell apart and Tullius and Ulfric stormed home in a huff because you refused to play their little game.” 

“These are LIVES!” Gunjar spun on the elf, “This isn’t a game!”

“To the men you were talking to, it is a game.” Nevano said calmly, “They run a war based off a little painted board with colored flags stuck to it. Couriers run in with updates saying how an assault was successful or how a patrol was lost. Not once mentioned are the lives taken to accomplish such. So, yes, to them it IS a game. A game they want to win at whatever cost. Lives are numbers and the point is to keep your numbers low and the other side’s high.”

“That’s not…”

“Right? Just? Fair?” Nevano looked back over the tundra, eyes distant. He knew the game all too well. “No. It’s not. But nothing ever is. This civil war is being run by one man who thinks the Nord way of life is meaningless and another man who forgets to look beyond his own city walls. Fairness was out the window before a sword was ever drawn. However, pouting and throwing a fit won’t fix a thing. These people need a hero, someone who is actually thinking of the value of life, their lives. That they aren’t numbers but actual people. Are you that hero?”

“I want to be…”

“Good. Then listen to me: you made some hard choices back there, choices that Tullius and Ulfric had in mind to force you to make as soon as they read that letter inviting them to High Hrothgar. They are only thinking conquest. You made a choice thinking about every life in this country. Actually, not just Skyrim, every life on Tamriel, on Nirn. Whether you want to make this war yours is a choice further down the line but today is about Alduin and stopping him so that Ulfric and Tullius can continue their stupid little war.”

“I hate this war.” 

“Good. Shows you still have a good soul.” Nevano said, “It’s the ones who say they love war I watch carefully. It’s one thing to enjoy a good fight but it’s totally another to crave war.”

Gunjar sighed and nodded, “Another thing that has bothered me. Delphine…she said that…that I had to kill Paarthurnax.”

“I was wondering when she was going to throw something like that out.” Nevano huffed. The elder of the Blades seemed a decent sort, even standing up to convince everyone to put aside their pride for once, but Delphine had set his teeth on edge the instant he had laid eyes on her. Truth be told he trusted her even less than Tullius and Ulfric. Those two he could predict what they were going to say and how they were going to react to a statement. Delphine cloaked herself in good intentions but her true motives Nevano couldn’t guess. She had bullied her way into the council with an arrogance that Nevano hadn’t seen in decades and he had known the entire Telvanni council. He had seen her pull Gunjar to the side after the pissing match called truce agreement had concluded and had immediately gotten suspicious but didn’t ask. Maybe he was being a paranoid Dunmer but he was willing to bet that Delphine wanted Paarthurnax dead less because he was a potentially dangerous dragon and more to exercise power and control over the Dovahkiin. That scenario was more typical of a Blade than any thought to public safety. “Your thoughts on that are…?”

“Paarthurnax has been the only truly helpful one besides you. Sure he sent me to get an elder scroll of all things but he did it not because he needed to see if he could trust me or for me to prove myself, but because it was something I had to do to stop Alduin. He gave me all that information freely. I’m pretty certain if I tell him he had to die, he would sit there and let me do it.” Gunjar’s shoulders slumped a little, “I can’t kill him. He’s a living creature that went from a monster destroying whole cities to teaching wisdom and wanting to stop the madness. How can I destroy that?”

“Simple. You don’t.” 

“There is no way things are that simple.”

“Another bit of Modryn Oreyn wisdom: the world is simple, people screw it up.” Nevano shrugged, “Sometimes you gotta please people. You gotta kiss arse and stroke egos to get things moving. The rest of the time, go with what your gut is telling you is the right thing to do. In this case, I wouldn’t consider kissing the arse of that Blade bitch to be a good thing.”

Gunjar sighed and nodded but Nevano could see that he was finally starting to process everything in his mind instead of wallowing in it. 

“Now, you need to put all that out of your mind. You got a dragon to catch.” Nevano shivered in spite of himself at the thought, “Not that I’m looking forward to that, mind.”

“You’re right. Time to bring Odahviing in.”

“Ohda…what?”

Gunjar finally cracked a smile and chuckled, “Odah-viing. Means Snow-Hunter-Wing. It’s the name of the dragon we’re calling: Winged Snow Hunter”

“More snow. Great. You know, after I leave Skyrim I don’t want to see or hear of snow ever again for however Azura lets me live.” Nevano gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes, throwing his hands in the air.

Gunjar chuckled again, “You know…I have to admit. As bad as that whole negotiation was, it was pretty funny watching you hit the roof when Elenwen walked in. You made a bigger fuss than Ulfric did over it. I mean, I’m glad we got her to leave, and I’m pretty sure everyone else was too, but you about stalled out everything right then and there with a fight, especially when you cursed her out in your native tongue. I think she understands Dunmeri.”

“ ‘There to make sure the Whitegold Concordant was followed’ my grey-skinned arse.” Nevano folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t care if I called that much attention to myself over it. I didn’t want to chance a sudden attack of insanity that would end with Truefire down her throat and Hopesflame up her arse.”

Gunjar grinned, “I think only Arngeir would have been upset over that and would have given you a stern talking to about spilling blood on stones that were dedicated to peace or something like that.”

“Forget shouting, he’d kill me with boredom listening to him drone on.” Nevano rolled his eyes, “I’ve had to listen to lectures in the Temple of Stendarr in Chorrol that were more interesting. Mind you, I fell asleep every single time and some priest would slap me upside the head.”

Gunjar finally laughed fully. Nevano grinned himself, pleased that he accomplished exactly what he wanted to do. Just in time too, as the jarl finally came out onto the porch. Immediately Gunjar turned serious but the gleam was back in his eyes. He was ready for battle and not stuck in the quagmire of guilt. 

“We’re ready, Dragonborn. Just say the word.” While he sounded less than pleased about a dragon being on his back porch, there was a bit of boyish excitement lacing Balgruuf’s voice. It made Nevano almost want to shake his head. It was like watching a kid getting excited over catching frogs, but no frog in Skyrim was capable of breathing fire. 

“Jarl.” Gunjar squared his shoulders, “Are you ready to spring the trap on this dragon?”

“As I promised, my men stand ready. The great chains are oiled. We wait on your word.”

“I’m ready.” Gunjar gave a confident smile, “Let’s go trap a dragon!”

“My men know what to do, make sure you do your part.” Balgruuf gave one last bit of guarded warning, “I’m putting my city in your hands.”

Everyone went out from under the covered porch and out into the open air. Nevano hung back a bit. He had every bit of confidence in Gunjar. He said he was going to call a dragon in and Nevano knew there would be a dragon. However, there was going to be a live, wild dragon landing right in front of them. He didn’t think that that had really sunk in for everyone yet. A real live dragon. The big fire-breathing kind with very sharp fangs that were as long as Nevano’s forearm. Nevano didn’t much feel like getting bit in the arse, literally or figuratively. 

“You do have a plan for luring a dragon here, yeah?” Balgruuf asked suddenly, as if the thought had just struck him. Nevano stared at him. The man just now thought of that? After all the preparations, the so-called peace council, the preparing of the trap and he just now thought of how to get the dragon here? Nevano’s ears twitched in annoyance. Nords!

“I do.” Gunjar stepped up to the very edge of the porch, scanning the sky. Everyone was tense and ready, almost not even breathing. Then Gunjar took a deep breath.

“OD AH-VIING!”

Nevano clapped his hands over his ears the words seemed to split the air apart. He hated it when Gunjar used his Thu’um powers. It felt like a massive pressure was trying its hardest to shred his ear drums from the inside out. At least he didn’t use the one that the draugr had used on him. What had Gunjar called it? Unrelenting force? Certainly made sense. That one always gave him a headache that lasted for days.

For several long tense moments the night sky stubbornly remained empty. Of all the times they actually wanted a dragon to appear and there was none to be found. Guards started to shift and mutter to each other. Irileth crossed her arms over her chest and hissed at them to be quiet. They fell silent but the disquieted shifting continued.

“Ah, now eventually you do plan to have a dragon come to your dragon call, right?” Nevano couldn’t help himself. Gunjar found a rock and threw it at him. Irileth gave him a look that was so mixed with irritation and temptation that Nevano wasn’t sure if she wanted to outright kill him or eat him alive. Both scenarios scared him to death, almost more so than the prospective dragon. Before he could really start to think about Irileth too much he was mercifully distracted as a slight sound made his ears twitch, “Do you hear that?”

Everyone froze, straining to hear whatever had caught the mer’s attention. A long silent moment that was so filled with tension that it nearly made Nevano’s ears quiver filled the porch. Then a roar split the air and the dragon suddenly appeared from over the top of Dragonsreach with a massive rush of pumping wings. Nevano recoiled as the shadow of the dragon completely blocked out both Masser and Secunda from view. This dragon was enormous. His wingspread alone was larger than the entire breadth of Dragonsreach. For a moment he feared they wouldn’t be able to get the dragon to fit in the porch where the trap was waiting. 

“Hold your fire!” Jarl Balgruuf ordered as his jumpy soldiers knocked arrows to their bows, “Let the Dragonborn bring the dragon in!” 

Gunjar had not moved a muscle when the dragon flew overhead. He stood calmly as the dragon wheeled about and came back towards them. Fire crackled in its mouth as its eyes locked on to the one figure that wasn’t quaking in fear. The dragon angled himself and came right in at Gunjar, taking in a massive breath, his tongue starting to curl to bellow a Thu’um. Gunjar, however, was faster. 

“JOOR ZAH FRUL!”

The building fire died in a puff of smoke in Odahviing’s mouth as his shout was cut off. Instead he screamed out, a shrill noise that made everyone slap their hands over their ears, writhing in mid-air as a blue light seemed to grab him by the chest like a massive fist and dragged him to the ground. Men scattered as the massive dragon was slammed onto the porch, rocks and timber shattering under the immense weight. The blue light shimmered and when the dragon spread his wings to try to take flight again, the light shimmered brighter and held him down like an anchor. The dragon bellowed in outrage, flapping his wings and stomping one foot in a temper tantrum that further shattered the already abused stone floor. 

“Hold! Do NOT engage!” Gunjar stood in front of the dragon, grinning confidently. “Come, Odahviing! Come catch me if you can!”

The enraged dragon bellowed again, his eyes flushing red as Gunjar ran out of range of his snapping teeth. Desperate to catch the impetuous human he stormed after him under the roof, each footstep shaking the entire keep. He was completely blinded by his anger. Had he taken just a moment to look around him, he would have seen that it was trap. As he lumbered into place, the guards let loose the chains and a massive yoke crashed down on the dragon, the mechanisms clicking into place around his neck as soon as it touched scales.

“Nid!” it cried, it’s massive voice shaking ancient dust loose from the ceiling.

“I think it’s holding!” someone cried. 

All at once it was over. The dragon gave one last groan but even its incredible size could not shift the yoke off its neck. The fight drained from it like water through a sieve. He knew he had been beaten.

“Horvutah med kodaav. Caught like a bear in a trap…” the dragon sighed, a putrid gust of air making everyone wrinkle their noses and Nevano gag. It smelled as if it had been feeding on something rotten before flying to answer the call. “Zok frini grind ko grah drun viiki, Dovahkiin. Ah. I forget. You do not have the dovah speech. My…eagerness to meet you in battle was my…undoing, Dovahkiin. I salute your, hmm, low cunning in devising such a grahmindol – stratagem.”

“Odahviing yes?” Nevano edged closer as Gunjar stood confidently in front of the dragon, close enough that he could reach out and touch the dragon’s snout without having to stretch. Now that the dragon was not a threat, or as much of one, Nevano could take the time to appreciate just how magnificent the beast was. Thick blood-red scales covered muscles that moved like liquid steel under leathery skin. Spikes grew in an angry ridge along the back and tail, tapering down then flaring into the spade-shaped tip of his tail. The wings intrigued Nevano the most. They seemed so fragile, indeed they were actually the weakest point of the dragon, but he had to remind himself that these seemingly delicate appendages actually lifted the entire dragon off the ground in one sweep and kept him airborne with seemingly effortless grace. 

“Zu’u bonaar. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this…humiliating position. Hind siiv Alduin, hmm? No doubt you want to know where to find Alduin?” Odahviing wasted no time in getting straight to the point. Fairly unusual for a dragon but Nevano supposed he was eager to find a way out of his binds rather than indulge his need for roundabout speech.

“That’s right. Where is he hiding?”

“Rinik vahaz. An apt phrase. Alduin bovul. One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu’um myself. Many of us have begun to question Alduin’s lordship, whether his Thu’um was truly the strongest. Among ourselves of course. Mu ni meyye. None were yet ready to openly defy him” Ah there it was. Seemed he couldn’t help himself after all. 

“You were telling me where to find Alduin?” Gunjar interrupted impatiently. 

“Unslaad krosis. Innumerable pardons. I digress. He has traveled to Sovngard to regain his strength, devouring the sillesjour…the souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealousy guards. His door to Sovngard is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains. Mindoraan, pak ok middovahhe lahvraan til. I surely do not need to warn you that all his remaining strength is marshaled there.” The dragon hesitated, “Zu’u lost ofan him laan…now that I have answered your question, you will allow me to go free?”

“Not until Alduin is defeated.” At Gunjar’s statement Nevano felt a brief moment of sympathy for the dragon. Dragon or no, nothing deserved to be held captive like this. 

“Ah. Well. Hmm…krosis. There is one detail about Skuldafn I neglected to mention.”

“Tell me what you know, then” Gunjar frowned.

“Only this. You have the Thu’um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn. Of course I could fly you there. But not while imprisoned like this.” Nevano was impressed. Sneaky dragon. 

“Fine. I’ll set you free if you promise to take me to Skuldafn.”

“Onikaan koraav gein miraad. It is wise to recognize when you only have one choice. And you can trust me. Zu’u ni tahrodiis. Alduin has proven himself unworthy to rule. I go my own way now. Free me, and I will carry you to Skuldafn.”

Gunjar nodded and turned towards Nevano. 

“Well…this is it my friend.” Gunjar kept up the bold façade but Nevano knew him well enough to see through to the edge of nervousness beneath. It didn’t concern Nevano. Fear was a good thing, a healthy thing. It kept the mind alert for danger, kept the fire of survival alive in the belly. As long as fear didn’t rule, it was a very good thing indeed to have when facing a dragon of legendary proportions. 

“I…have a request of you.” Gunjar said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “Should I not make it back…There’s a house in Falkreath Hold, on the western tip of Lake Ilinalta. Just…can you give something to her?”

“Her?” Nevano raised an eyebrow but at the pained look on Gunjar’s face didn’t push, “I will. Though you’ll come back. Don’t think because I’ve agreed to this that you have permission keel over and die. I will find a way to bring you back to life to kill you myself, got it?”

“Yes dear.” Gunjar grinned briefly.

“By Azura…” Nevano groaned, realizing just how much like a nagging wife he sounded just then. “Alright, what do you want me to take to your mystery woman?”

Wordlessly Gunjar reached into his pack and pulled out a medallion that had been cleverly carved into the likeness of a dragon. He ran a thumb over it before handing it to Nevano. “She’ll know what it means.”

“When you come back alive, because I know you will, I’m dropping this into the bottom of a mead barrel and you’re going to have to drink your way to it.” Nevano said with a perfectly straight face. Gunjar was grinning but he had no idea that Nevano meant to keep his word on that. 

“Incredible! Uh…sir, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for such an opportunity!” Nevano and Gunjar turned to see that Farengar had finally made his appearance. He had all but been leaping with excitement when he had discovered they would be trapping a dragon in the keep but, like every good coward, he had waited for everyone else to do the hard work for him. “I would be most appreciative if you permit me to perform some, ah, tests on you. Purely in the interests of the advancement of knowledge.”

“Begone, mage. Do not test my promise to the Dovahkiin.” Odahviing was clearly unimpressed with Balgruuf’s choice in court wizard. 

“I assure you, you will not even notice me. Most of them are hardly painful at all to a large dragon such as yourself.” Farengar moved around to the back of the dragon, prodding at the massive scales.

“Farengar, very bad idea.” Irileth said, “Even for you.”

“Surely you wouldn’t miss a few scales…or a small amount of blood.” Farengar pulled out a needle and started to poke between the scales to the flesh beneath.

“Joor mey! What are you doing back there?” Nevano bit his lip to keep from laughing. So the high and mighty dragons were afraid of needles were they? Oh that just made this entire insane adventure completely worth it. 

“YOL TOOR SHUL!!” Odahviing about squealed, spouting a gout of flame as Farengar finally got through the tough hide. The mage fell over backwards with a yelp and scrambled away. Though whether it was from the dragon breathing fire or because Odahviing was doing his best to tuck his rump away from the stinging intrusion was anyone’s guess. 

Nevano shook his head as they watched the mage run all the way back into the safety of the keep, “Mages. No matter how many time you tell them not to touch something, that they’ll get burned, they just have to touch it. I’ve seen children with far more sense.” 

“Give the poor thing his due.” Gunjar said as he started up the stairs, “He’s been anxiously waiting to see a dragon since Alduin first destroyed Helgen.”

“Seeing a dragon and stabbing it with a needle are two totally different things.” Nevano said, “What’s the saying? Let sleeping dragons lie? I’m going to add an addendum: don’t poke trapped dragons.”

Gunjar shook his head and turned to the guard by the lever who was still shaking from the adrenaline. “Something to tell the grandkids eh?” the guard said, grinning because that was the only thing TO do after such a rush. 

“Open the trap.” Gunjar said gently, almost apologetically. 

“You sure about that? You want to let that dragon loose after all the trouble to catch him in there?” The guard’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Yes, I’m sure”

“Your funeral. Someone else is gonna have to help you get him back in there again…”

“Open the gods damned trap!” Nevano snapped, his patience finally snapping. The guard yelped and ran over to the lever. 

“This…seems like a really bad idea to me!” he stammered, hand on the lever but unwilling to pull it. Nevano narrowed his eyes, hands sliding to his swords. He wasn’t going to kill him but he would scare this fool more than the dragon ever possibly could. 

“Carry on, soldier. This is all part of the Dragonborn’s plan.” Balgruuf intervened before Nevano could snap again. 

“Faas nu, zini dein ruthi ahst vaal.” Odahviing said gratefully as the massive yoke came off. He arched his neck and shook himself, ridding himself of the feeling of captivity. Carefully he maneuvered his bulk around so he could walk out of the porch straight and proud, not backing out like a horse led from its stall. He DID however crash his tail against the door where Farengar was peeking out. Nevano could have sworn that the dragon’s lips pulled back in a smirk as the mage yipped when his fingers were crushed in the door. 

“Saraan uth – I await your command as promised. Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can?” Odahviing asked. He sounded patient enough but there was a certain quiver in his wings that belied his eagerness to take to the sky again. 

“I’m ready. Take me to Skuldafn.”

“Zok brit uth! I warn you, once you’ve flown the skies of Keizaal, your envy of the dov will only increase.”

Gunjar grasped the dragon’s head horns and hoisted himself up, settling on the neck where the spikes were shortest. Odahviin quivered like a horse being held in. “Amativ! Mu bo kotin stinselok!” he said as Gunjar gripped his horns. Then, without wasting anymore time, he spread his wings and in one massive sweep was airborne. Another rush of wings and a triumphant roar and he was out of the keep and soaring up into the air over the tundra. Nevano ran to the edge of the porch to watch. Gunjar was headed off to easily the most difficult fight of his life, a fight that would decide the fate of the whole world…but he was certainly heading off in style. Every guard there had his jaw on the ground as they watched the impressive dragon fly off with the Dragonborn on his back. Something to tell the grandkids indeed.

“He’s either the bravest person I’ve ever met, or the biggest fool.” Irileth murmured as she stood next to Nevano, watching the dragon bank and turn east. 

“He’s both.” Nevano muttered, earning a rare smile from the Dunmer woman. He edged away. 

“May Kynareth guard you while you cross her realm!” Balgruuf said as the two disappeared rapidly into the distance, “And Talos guide you safely…”

“So…” Nevano broke the spell, pulling a small pouch from his pack. “Anyone want to play a game of dice? I have a feeling we’re going to be waiting a while.”

To his great shock, and trepidation, the Jarl’s housecarl, the grumpy Irileth, was the first to take him up on his offer. 

XxXxXx

Three days. It had been three days since Gunjar flew off on the back of a dragon. Three days with no word on how things were going. Nevano was not used to being the one left wondering and it was slowly driving him crazy. He had managed to stay optimistic for two days but his nerves slowly began to fray the longer he had to wait. He had considered looking for an odd job around town to keep busy while he waited but he found he couldn’t bring himself to even leave the great porch. Instead he had made a perch for himself up on peak of the roof, where he had an unobstructed view of the sky. 

“How many days do you think we should wait before we say he’s dead?”

“It’s been three days. He’s probably dead.”

Nevano frowned as his sharp ears picked up the guards chatter below. Every day the guards had gotten a little less enthusiastic and a lot more skeptical and they weren’t shy about running their mouths about it. It made him want to chuck the dragon medallion at their heads but he instead would clutch it so tightly that his knuckles would turn white and a dragon would be imprinted on his palm. 

He looked up at the sky again. The sun was setting. The third day was coming to a close. He watched as the sun became a mere sliver on the horizon and the sky faded from blue to yellow to orange to purple. Dusk was settling over the tundra. Already the sky in the west was a deep inky blue. Stars were just starting to twinkle in the sky and Masser and Secunda were starting to stand out, taking over the stage from the sun. If Nevano looked down he would see the last few daytime animals making their way to their dens for the night. The nighttime animals hadn’t come out just yet. This was the cusp of dusk. This moment, this blink between night and day, was Azura’s time. Nevano could feel her power thrumming in the air. The last puff of breeze picked up, carrying the faint smell of roses. 

Nevano crossed his legs and took in a deep air to steady himself. He couldn’t explain why he wanted to seek out the daedric prince. Azura, though she loved her followers, was not in the business of offering comfort. However, she had sent out an invitation and he felt compelled to answer. He turned his consciousness inward; searching for the spark that he knew was Azura’s watchful gaze. It didn’t take him long to connect to the daedric prince. 

“And so does rage a mighty battle for the mortal world in, ironically, an immortal plane.” Azura sounded amused. Nevano mentally sighed. Of course Azura was watching in amusement; to her, this was like being a spectator to a well-played board game. There would be no huge loss to her if this plane of existence were destroyed, other than a loss of playthings. The mortal plane was nothing more that a source of diversion for Aedra and Daedra both. Alduin was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. 

“Alduin is one of many.” Azura said, easily seeing Nevano’s line of thought.

Nevano knew that. Dagoth Ur, Mankar Camoran, Alduin…they were only a few in a long line of those who either wanted to conquer the world or wanted to destroy it. Sure, their place in history was burned in infamy, but there would always be another. Until the end of time, there would always be another. But as long as there was someone willing to stand up and say “No”, the cycle would continue. Some would call it prophecy but Nevano didn’t put much stock in prophecy. To him, prophecy was just a story someone dreamed up of and others followed it like a script in a play. No one was born to be a hero. Heroes were simply those who had been pushed to the point were failure was no longer an option.

“Are you sure about that, my champion?” Azura’s voice had an edge to it, “We are gods. We know you before you are born, centuries before you are born. You were chosen before your ancestors were even a thought.”

Nevano didn’t answer. He had never believed that he was divinely chosen. He had followed his path because in the beginning he had no choice and then later because if he had quit hundreds of thousands would die. Not much of a choice. He had been randomly chosen, randomly framed for murder, randomly thrown onto the playing field. Another little flag pinned on the painted board. A hero because he had no way out and his will to survive was stronger than the will of those who wanted to kill him. 

“Do you think I did not see that stubborn will of yours?” Azura asked, “Do you think I did not know that you had the will to not just survive but to succeed? The Aedra Akatosh guides this friend of yours, this Dragonborn. How is that not divinely chosen and guided? We are gods, my champion. You shall see.”

With that, Azura swept his awareness off across Skyrim, off to the east, to the mountains. When he stopped he was suspended above Skuldafn. It couldn’t be anything but. Carved into the mountain, with no discernable road or path leading down or out. It was ancient, older than the ruins he had seen all over Skyrim. What concerned him were the bodies of draugr and the two dragon skeletons that decorated the place. Those were not ancient. Those were fresh. They covered the place like rats on a ship’s hold. Two live dragons were perched at the highest points of the ruins, both intently watching a swirling portal. Nevano realized that this had to be Alduin’s door to Sovngard that Odahviing mentioned. The trail of corpses led right to the door…Gunjar had to have made it through!

“Could any mortal not touched by the gods be able to do that?”

“Everyone is born with courage.” Nevano said stubbornly, “Some have just been forced to see the depths of their own fear and know what it means to use their courage to survive.”

“Stubborn child.” Azura then yanked him away from Skuldafn, not bothering to be gentle. Apparently Nevano was starting to push her patience. Not a wise thing to do but at that point, Nevano didn’t care.

Snow swirled around him as he was taken to yet another mountain. Yet this time, as he shifted his awareness around, he realized that there was NOTHING else around. Nothing as in there were no other mountain peaks reaching up to this summit. This mountain rose up alone and dominated the world around it. There was nothing quite like the peak of the Throat of the World anywhere else in Tamriel and this was undoubtedly Nevano’s favorite way of experiencing this lofty mountain; he couldn’t feel the cold. 

Then he saw a giant cluster of dragons. They seemed to be waiting, staring at a certain point. They were of all sizes, shapes and colors. There were small brown dragons that were shifting away from bigger dragons in shades ranging from green to red to bronze to white. Nevano quickly picked out Odahviing. His scales a more vibrant red than the other reds around him. Nevano noticed that other dragons did not jostle him as they did each other. However none of them even came close to the size of the massive gray dragon perched nearby. He was ancient, his wings were tattered and many of his horns were worn to blunt ends. The other dragons seemed to pay deference to him, none of them daring to infringe on his space. That had to be Paarthurnax, the grandmaster of the Graybeards. Nevano could see why Gunjar held so much respect for the dragon: as massive and daunting as he was, Nevano felt no evil in him. If anything, he almost felt safe in his presence, calm and serene. Whatever evil had once resided in this dragon was long since quelled. 

The air shimmered. Every dragon stared intently, wings quivering with anticipation. Nevano realized that this was the moment that would alter history; either Alduin was going to appear and signal the end times or Gunjar was going to materialize and herald in times of peace. Nevano’s consciousness twisted on itself, lacking a physical form to manifest his anxiety. 

The shimmer coalesced on itself and then burst outwards in a flash of light. A shape began to form within the light. Nevano’s consciousness wavered. This was almost too much for him to take. The form stood upright. Upright! Like a man, not a dragon! Only Azura’s hold on his mind kept him from blacking out in excitement and relief as Gunjar stepped out of the light and onto the snow. The dragons roared, a deafening symphony that shook the mountain. They perfectly reflected Nevano’s feelings. 

“Alduin mahlaan!” Every dragon intoned together.

“Sahrot thur qahnaraan!” Paarthurnax called to the skies.

“Alduin mahlaan!” All the dragons spread their wings, a few taking off and circling overhead.

“Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid!”

“Alduin mahlaan!” By now all the dragons were flying around the summit of the mountain, bellowing and crying out.

“Thu’umii los nahlot!”

“Alduin mahlaan!” 

“Mu los vomir!” Paarthurnax gave one last proclamation, punctuating it with a shout that made the air split and the snow shudder mid-air. The other dragons began to thin out, flying off into the distance, bellowing out the news to the world that Alduin was gone for good. 

“You think your time is over, my champion, that you are my pawn, and now that your time is over I have thrown you away.” Azura said, taking him away and back towards his body in Whiterun, “Oh but I have watched you since you were born and I never stopped watching you. Your path did not suddenly end with Dagoth Ur’s death. You may have strayed but you are not yet finished. You will see. But now the newly minted Hero of Skyrim is flying on the back of a dragon back to Whiterun. I believe you have plans you wish to carry out. Go. We will speak again soon.”

Nevano woke up from his trance, his mind taking more than a moment to reconcile that he was still perched on the roof of Dragonsreach and not in the mountains. Then he grinned. It would take Gunjar a bit before he arrived back at Dragonsreach. Nevano had a lot to do. He leaped off of the roof and rolled as he hit the ground, absorbing the shock, causing more than one guard to jump. They had been very jumpy since the dragon had been here. Had he not been so preoccupied Nevano would have taken full advantage of that but right now was not the time for pranks. He took off at a run inside, pushing his encounter with Azura out of his mind for the time being. It was time to see if these Nords could live up to their reputations. 

XxXxXx

Nevano was waiting alone on the porch when Odahviing landed back on the porch, the dragon settling his feet in the same footprints he had left the first time, the stones groaning but fortunately not cracking further. Gunjar slid from the dragon’s neck.

“Thank you, Odahviing.” He said, giving the dragon a companionable slap on the neck, “Stay out of trouble.”

“Pruzah sul, Dovahkiin.” Odahviing said respectfully, nodding his head. Then he spread his wings and took off, making the timbers groan as the hurricane force winds battered them. Gunjar watched him until he disappeared off into the distance before turning to the patiently waiting elf. 

“I leave for a few hours and everyone takes off?” Gunjar smiled wearily. Nevano knew the feeling: things were finally back to normal and all the adrenaline drained from the body. Gunjar probably couldn’t decide if he wanted to first eat half a cow or drink a barrel of ale or sleep for a week.

“Hours?” Nevano raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been gone for days!”

“Days? Huh…” Gunjar frowned, the shrugged, “I guess time moves slower in Sovngard.”

“Time flows different on different planes of existence.” Nevano said, taking him by the arm and leading him inside the keep, “You were in the realm of the dead. There’s no such thing as time anymore. The immortal have no need for time. Some of them, usually daedra, have no concept of time nor do they want to learn of it. Makes dealing with them difficult.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Gunjar tried to tug his arm back as Nevano dragged him down the stairs, “Why are you dragging me around like your personal pet? Slow down, elf.”

Nevano stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Gunjar, “Alduin…is he…?”

Gunjar stood up straight, “Alduin is dead. The heroes of Sovngard and I defeated him while Tsun, the shield-thane of Shor, stood by as witness. He’s gone.”

Instantly the entire entry hall of Dragonsreach erupted. Nevano smirked as Gunjar’s eyes went impossibly wide as he suddenly took in just how many people were crowded inside the hall, now cheering and yelling and calling praises to the Dragonborn. 

“You…?” Gunjar looked down at Nevano. 

“The whole of Skyrim has been eagerly awaiting your return.” Nevano said, unable to stop his smirk from growing, “I just made sure there was plenty to drink to celebrate. A hero deserves a hero’s welcome.”

It had been far easier than Nevano had initially expected. Unbeknownst to him, word had slowly been spreading that the Dragonborn had come and had called upon both Ulfric and Tullius to work out a temporary truce while he trapped a dragon in order to stop the dragon attacks. Since the negotiation word had spread even more about Alduin’s return and Gunjar’s subsequent intent of destroying him. People had been traveling from all over the province to Whiterun partly to see the captured dragon (and were highly disappointed) and partly to catch a glimpse of the hero who was going to save them from the end times. Nevano had rounded up several willing helpers and gotten them to obtain as much mead and food as they could fit into Dragonsreach. Then he had simply returned to the porch and waited. 

“Go. Enjoy yourself.” Nevano nudged Gunjar in the ribs, “Sure there’s more work to be done but for now…celebrate.” 

Gunjar moved out into the crowd and was immediately engulfed by people. Mead was shoved into his hands and everyone begged to hear of how Alduin fell, of what Sovngard was like and how was it to fight alongside the heroes of Sovngard. Nevano grinned. He had celebrated his accomplishments by being stretched out unconscious for several days, followed by several weeks of incredibly painful recovery. He was happy that Gunjar could actually enjoy this party and that he managed to defeat that dragon without tearing his body apart. 

“Sir, sir!” Nevano didn’t look up immediately as several bards came up to him. He wasn’t used to being addressed like that. It wasn’t until one shook his shoulder that he realized they meant him.

“Who, me?” Nevano started a bit. “What?”

“Well… we found an old song. There was no tune or sure pronunciation to it…but since it is the song of the Dovahkiin and the Dovahkiin has saved all of Skyrim we created our own tune for it!” A Breton woman said excitedly, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, “We just wanted your permission to sing it!”

“Why do you need my permission?” Nevano was thoroughly confused. Most bards would start singing, invited or not. Half the time he had seen people throw coins at them to get them to shut up. More importantly, why in oblivion would they be asking him for permission??

“Well…you organized this party, no?” The Nord man accompanying her asked, “That makes you the Master of Revels. Therefore, it is you we need to have permission from in order to perform.”

“Uh, yeah sure.” Nevano blinked, “I don’t see why not. Go ahead.”

Curiously he watched as the small group walked up to the raised floor where the Jarl’s throne sat. Without preamble, they started to sing. It was a hum at first, but it broke through the clamoring din of the room, causing a hush. The melody was strong and hearty; much like the Nordic people themselves. One by one, everyone’s attention shifted to the bards, their curiosity piqued at this tune that seemed to demand their attention. Other bards that were scattered throughout the hall began to bring out instruments, the deep beat of drums and the evocative tone of pipes accentuating the strength of the song. It began to build with intensity and filled the hall, enrapturing every person within so that they felt compelled to join in. Nevano felt himself being swept up in it as well, humming along even as his tongue tried to form the unfamiliar words.

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,  
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!  
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,  
Dovahkii, fah hin kogaan mu draal!

Huzrah nu, kul do od, wah aan bok lingrah vod,  
Ahrk fin tey, boziik fun do fin gein!

Wo lost fron wah ney dov, ahrk fin reyliik do jul,  
Voth aan suleyk wah ronit faal krein!  
Tol fod zymah win kein meyz fundein!  
Alduin, feyn do jun, kruziik vokun staadnau,  
Voth aan bahlok wah diivon fin lein!

Nuz aan sul, fent alok, fod fin vul dovah nok,  
Fen kos nahlot mahfaeraak ahrk ruz!  
Paaz Keizaal fen kos stin nol bein Alduin jot,

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,  
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!  
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,  
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!”

Nevano was so caught up in the thrall of the music that when the rushing chorus ended he suffered a shock as keen as pain. He had never before heard a song sung like that before, certainly not one that inspired such emotion. Judging by the looks on the faces of those around him, they felt the same. He highly doubted that this could ever be replicated ever again, even if they tried. The only thing he didn’t like was how somber and quiet the crowd had become. Then he remembered something. He jumped up on a table. 

“Oi, Gunjar!” Everyone looked up to see a very evil grin on Nevano’s face. Gunjar’s eyes went wide when Nevano let the dragon medallion slide from his hand and dangle by one finger. “I meant what I said.”

With that Nevano pitched the dragon medallion into a massive open cask of mead. It had the desired effect: the crowd roared with laughter, raising their mugs as Gunjar dove after his medallion.

“Start drinking, Dovahkiin!” 

END PART 2

XxXxXx


	16. Part 3 Ashes (Seeing Red)

Part 3 - Ashes

Chapter 15

Seeing Red

XxXxXx

Whiterun, Skyrim – 4E 201, Mid Year

The horse flicked its ears back and swished its tail moodily as it eyed the Dunmer in front of it. They had been locked in a staring contest with each other for the past several minutes, both sides regarding the other with severe misgivings. 

“By the Nine would you just get on the damn horse?” Gunjar complained, already mounted on his horse and holding his head. “I’m way too hung-over to deal with a prissy elf and a stubborn horse.”

“I told you, horses and I don’t get along.” Nevano said without looking away from the grumpy equine in front of him. In stark contrast to his groggy companion, Nevano was fully awake and bright-eyed, the boon to being unable to get fully drunk. It had been three days since Gunjar had defeated Alduin, three days since the raucous party which Gunjar had spent a grand time retelling an increasing embellished tale of the battle to an increasingly drunken crowd and three days since Nevano had amazed every Nord in Whiterun by out-drinking and out-eating them all. Three days had barely put a dent in Gunjar’s hangover though. Most of Whiterun was still recovering actually, a fact that amused Nevano greatly. “They all know. I swear its horse law. They know who will eat them and they pass it along the generations. They don’t really like Orcs much either…but I knew an Orc once who would eat them like a wolf does. Dunmer at least cook them first. Better table manners…”

“Just. Get. On. There’s no way I’m walking all the way to Windhelm because you won’t get on!” Gunjar was starting to get extremely frustrated with his Dunmer companion and Nevano was never one to pass on an opportunity to take the hot air out of someone. 

“That’s what you get for drinking a whole barrel of mead!” Nevano flinched back a little as the horse pinned its ears again, making a face at his equine opponent. “Stop glaring at me, I’m not going to eat you though if you bite me I will seriously consider it.”

“I drank a whole barrel because you tossed my medallion in said barrel!” Gunjar shouted, waving his arms and causing his bay horse to shift nervously, “You got ten seconds before I throw you on and slap that mare on the arse!”

“You get really grumpy when you’re hung over, don’t you?” Nevano looked back at the horse, “So that’s your problem, you’re a mare. I understand now. Usually I let the women do the riding but, I’m sorry, we haven’t even had dinner together yet. Also, I’m really not into horses but…”

“Get on the gods damned horse!” Gunjar’s shriek interrupted Nevano before he could turn down an even dirtier line of dialogue, his face turning bright red.

Nevano chuckled to himself and leaped lightly up on the horse, causing Gunjar to grumble at him. The black and white paint horse sighed, resigning herself to her unusual rider. “I know HOW to ride. People ride all over the place in Cyrodiil. You can’t swing a dead guar without hitting someone on horseback. Though usually I rode the horses that a Dunmer had raised. They were…used to our smell I guess. I don’t know. I just know that horses don’t like me but those weren’t too bad. I guess this pretty lady and I will just have to learn to get along. We got a week to do it.”

The longer they rode in the fresh summer air the more Gunjar’s mood improved as his head cleared and his headache faded. Nevano wasn’t exactly a huge help. He had thoroughly enjoyed teasing Gunjar earlier and continued amusing himself by jokingly flirting with his horse in Dunmeri the entire time, making Gunjar turn red by the increasing vulgarity. The Nord didn’t actually understand the foreign words but there was no mistaking just WHAT the mer was saying. Occasionally Nevano would take mercy on Gunjar and tell a story from his Fighters Guild days to lighten the mood a bit. No need to have a grumpy traveling companion the whole trip to Windhelm after all. 

By the time they stopped to make camp for the night, Gunjar was back to his normal self. That is, far more tolerant and immune to Nevano’s little tricks, much to the elf’s great disappointment. However, Nevano decided that enough was enough and to make peace he took down a deer for fresh meat rather than relying on dried travel rations. Better to enjoy the bounty of easy game where it was still warm rather than up north where the eternal snow made hunting difficult. 

“Do you think we have time to spend a day or two in Windhelm? I’ve never been there before.” He asked, poking at the deer roasting over the fire.

“Sure.” Nevano shrugged, “You’ve never been to Windhelm?”

“I was born on a farm not far from Roikstead. The mercenary band I joined stayed mainly in the south along the border or in the Rift. Our chief said that ice trolls were worse than daedra and he would have nothing to do with them. So we delt with spriggans and hagravens instead.”

“I…wouldn’t call that a fair trade.” Nevano made a face. Sure trolls were massively strong and smelled horrible but compared to the other two they were easy to kill, especially since trolls were often solitary while spriggans and hagravens tended to travel in groups. “Just get a weapon with a cheap fire enchantment on it and trolls are easy. But yeah we can stay a day or two. Might take that long to convince someone to take us to Solstheim anyway. Not like there’s ships that shove off for that spit of a nightmare every day. We could be waiting up to a few weeks.”

“Think Ulfric will notice we’re there?”

“I doubt Ulfric notices what goes on outside his doorstep.” Nevano ran a hand over his messy ridge of hair and frowned. His hair grown so long that it flopped in every which direction instead of standing up straight. Somehow or another he managed to fully ignore the crazy forelock that was slowly growing until it fell in front of his eyes. The rest of his skull had grown stubble instead of being clean-shaven. Things had been so crazy lately that personal upkeep had fallen on the priority list. He pulled out a razor. He preferred to keep his hair short. It naturally was a mess, no two hairs going in the same direction twice. It was just much easier to manage when it was a short ridge. “I don’t think he and Tullius have heard of Alduin’s demise just yet so they’re holed up, doing some serious plotting. You might not LIKE what happened at High Hrothgar, but you have to admit you threw them both for a serious loop. Even after the cease-fire ends, it’ll take them both weeks to revise all their plans.”

“So I’m curious.” Gunjar changed the subject, not especially wanting to talk about the war or his new role in it, “How come your hair is growing but not facial hair?”

Nevano sighed. Was he really bringing that up? Talk about unwanted conversation topics. “How much do you know about the whole Nerevarine thing?”

“Is this related or are you trying to distract me from my original question?” Gunjar asked, by now used to Nevano’s methods of distraction. 

“They are related.” Nevano begrudgingly admitted. 

“Not that much really.” Gunjar shrugged, “I know you killed Dagoth Ur and somehow ended up immortal.”

“I’m not immortal.” Nevano sighed, “I’m ageless. Immortal suggests that I can’t be killed. You stab me in the gut right now I’ll bleed out like any other man. Immortality is a god thing. You stab them in the gut, they get back up and rip your spine out through your mouth.”  
`   
“So immortal youth?”

“I’m more… frozen in time than anything.” Nevano went on sharpening his razor, trying not to let his mounting irritation on this topic get the better of him. He didn’t need to accidentally snap the blade. “See, I caught a disease and instead of being cured from it, all the negative side affects were removed instead, leaving me with all the…beneficial aspects of it I guess you could say. One of those benefits was halting the aging process. I was frozen in that age.”

“How old were you?”

“I was 33.”

“That’s not that young.” Gunjar frowned.

“Gunjar, I’m an elf. Just because you Nords look like a baby werewolf by the age of 10 doesn’t mean we all age the same. My natural life span is about 300 years old. If you really think about it, 33 is really young to a race that lives to be 300 years old. A Dunmer is not considered fully an adult until they are at least 50.” Nevano sighed. “So in answer to your question…no facial hair. I’m technically too young for it and I swear if you laugh at that I’m taking this razor and shaving those ridiculous horns off your helmet.”

“I swear I won’t laugh. I’m just surprised is all. I mean I knew you were old. I just thought you hid your age well.” Gunjar quickly slid his prized helmet behind him, making sure to school his face into something neutral. 

“You humans are notoriously bad at guessing a mer’s age.” Nevano said, then he smirked, “Looking perpetually young certainly makes it easier to get a lay for the night. Women have no idea I’m 240 years old.”

Gunjar rolled his eyes. Trust Nevano to throw in a remark like that in. 

“There’s more benefits than disadvantages here.” Nevano said with a slight wince as he ran the razor over his skull, working purely by feel. He’d had a few cuts and knicks but those healed fast enough, but working by feel meant he’d have to leave his over grown ridge of hair alone. He couldn’t work on that by feel alone. He’d have to deal with his hair in his face for a while. “It’s annoying enough to shave my head every few weeks or so. Shaving my face every day? No thank you.”

“Changing the subject, I got something you might be interested in.” Gunjar could tell that Nevano was at the end of his tolerance of the subject. He was cracking stupid jokes, his more polite way of saying he was about to close the topic. Any attempts on Gunjar’s part to push the subject again would be met with more jokes or evasive questions. If he pushed hard enough Nevano would shut down completely on him and he didn’t want to do that. 

“What’s that? Ow!” Nevano got distracted just long enough to knick a finger. 

“Oh, one of the bards gave me the translation to that song.”

“Song? Oh. In Whiterun.” Nevano sucked on his bleeding finger, “Let me see.” He took the slip of paper and read over it. He tried to get the tune going in his head first but the more he read, the more it faltered and died and his eyes went wide. He never noticed the evil smirk growing on Gunjar’s face.

Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn,  
To keep evil forever at bay!  
And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph’s shout,   
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!

Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age long ago,  
And the tale, boldly told, of the one!  
Who was kin to both wyrm, and the races of man,  
With a power to rival the sun!

And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold,  
That when brothers wage war come unfurled!  
Alduin, Band of Kings, ancient shadow unbound,  
With a hunger to swallow the world!

But a day shall arise, when the dark dragon’s lies,   
Will be silenced forever and then!  
Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin’s maw,   
Dragonborn be the savior of men!

Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn,  
To keep evil forever at bay!  
And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph’s shout,  
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!

“This…isn’t a damn song. It’s an Azura-be-damned PROPHECY!” Nevano practically shrieked, causing both horses to snort at him.

“Seems to be.” Gunjar smirked broadly, knowing exactly Nevano’s feeling on prophecy. He originally wasn’t going to show it to his friend but since Nevano hadn’t shut up once all day, he felt he needed to bring the elf down a notch or two.

Nevano cursed colorfully in his native tongue. He knew, he KNEW, that somewhere Azura was laughing at him. So, apparently, was Gunjar. 

XxXxXx 

Windhelm, Skyrim – 4E 201 Sun’s Height

If Nevano had to choose the worst place he had been thus far in Skyrim, it would be Windhelm. It had nothing to do with the permanent winter that was common to the area, even in high summer. It had nothing to do with forbidding frozen stones that stood proud in the snow like an ancient great king in stories. It had nothing to do with the guards’ glares. Nevano was used to that. No, it was the atmosphere. As soon as he stepped foot in the city, he immediately felt uncomfortable. He felt like every eye was on him, like a deer being watched by a massive pack of wolves. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling inside a city when he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Recently at least. 

“Pretty serious here.” Gunjar commented quietly as they walked through the massive city gates, “Here I thought Riften was pretty bad. At least Riften it could be blamed on the Thieves Guild. Not sure what has everyone so grim here.”

Nevano stayed silent. The gates banged shut behind them and he felt very much like one of those painted cows being sacrificed to giants. He tugged his hood down lower over his face, glad for the added protection of the lenses still over his eyes. Anything that would help hide him from the unseen danger. 

“Uh oh.” Gunjar murmured. Nevano followed his gaze to where a Dunmer woman was standing her ground against two Nord men. Nevano’s eyes narrowed. He could see that the woman was defensive, her arms crossed across her chest and one shoulder turned slightly towards them. The men were aggressive, leaning in towards her and a hand on their belts where weapons would hang. 

“You come here where you’re not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!” Yelled a Nord with an impressive mustache, his words just slightly slurred. 

“But we haven’t taken a side because it’s not our fight.” The Dunmer woman said with a small sigh of long-suffering.

“Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don’t help in the war is because they’re Imperial spies!” The other very disheveled looking Nord said. 

“Imperial spies? You can’t be serious!” The Dunmer woman gave him an askance look. 

“Maybe we’ll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are.” The first idiot said, lowering his voice to what he thought was a threatening growl as he walked away but came out a drunken burble instead. 

“That was a little…unpleasant.” Gunjar said, “I’ve never seen anything like that before…Nevano? Hey Nev-wait NO!” Gunjar lunged and grabbed Nevano around the waist, pulling the much shorter man completely off his feet, causing him to drop the two furiously burning swords. Desperately he grabbed at Nevano’s wrists with one hand, trying his hardest to keep the elf from drawing any of the numerous weapons he knew were hidden somewhere in the dark armor. “Stop Nevano, it’s not worth it!”

Nevano snarled and struggled like a wildcat caught in a snare. He flailed, trying to reach the dagger in his boot, Keening on his back, hell he’d even take one of his arrows and stab the idiots in the face with it! He just couldn’t reach any of his weapons with this Nord holding him back! Rage blinded him completely in a red haze. He turned his fight to the person holding him, kicking and struggling for all he was worth, knocking them both onto the ground. 

“Dammit Nevano snap out of it!” Gunjar struggled with the elf, having a hard time subduing the much smaller elf. Gunjar, like most Nords, was tall and powerful, perfectly suited for swinging the massive axe strapped to his back. Nevano was short for a Dunmer, lithe and sinewy. Yet despite these differences, Nevano continued to give the Nord a hard time, fighting like a wild cat. “Killing them will only make it worse!”

Slowly the explosive red rage died down and Nevano stopped fighting Gunjar. “You can put me down.” Nevano said evenly, his voice colder than the snow around them. Gunjar did as asked but kept a wary watch on him just in case the elf decided to go berserk again. 

“Nevano…”

“Don’t.” He picked up Hopesfire and Trueflame from the ground, sheathing them, “I’m used to dealing with suspicions and hostility, even from my own people. I just don’t like seeing it happen to other people.”

“I think there’s more to it than that but I’ll accept that for now.” Gunjar relaxed a bit but seeing the cold anger that settled over his friend like a veneer of ice was unsettling, “We need to go find the Northern Maiden.” 

“I’m going to look around a bit. I’ll meet you at the docks.”

“Don’t kill anyone.” Gunjar didn’t smile as he said it, “I’m serious. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m not.” Nevano waved his friend off, “Mostly because I don’t want to bring more ire to the Dunmer.”

Nevano watched Gunjar disappear off towards the dock gate. He was right…there was more to it. Racism was nothing new. It occurred everywhere, from the southern most reaches of the Summerset Isles to the northern most tip of Skyrim, from the west coast of Daggerfell to the western reaches of Blackmarsh. Hell, the Dunmer were even suspicious of each other. If it wasn’t Great Houses killing each other it was city mer shunning Ashlanders or native-borns looking down on outlanders. So why did it bother him now? He frowned, remembering Hadvar’s words back in Helgen “Another refugee? Gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf.” Seeing that Dunmer woman being bullied…it just seemed to reinforce that. Were they really abandoned by the gods? Were they truly doomed to fade into nothingness?

Nevano scrubbed a hand over his face. As his fingers slid away, a twinkle caught his eye. He looked down at his hand and saw his ring, Moon-and-Star. The stone in the center of the star winked at him, catching the moonlight in its inky depths and reflecting it back out. No. The gods hadn’t abandoned the Dunmer…because the gods never looked after them in the first place. Hadvar, indeed all of Tamriel, even the Dunmer themselves, believed they were accursed, gods-forsaken. They were wrong. Azura hadn’t left her children. Not yet. Nevano clenched his fist, feeling the band dig into his skin. All could not be lost for the Dunmer, not yet. He glanced at the ring once more before turning down the dank dark alley leading towards the Grey Quarter. 

The Grey Quarter. The name was meant to be more of an insult. It was meant to say that the Snow Quarter was over-run by Dunmer, that a once Nordic area was now dark and grey. Well the joke was on the Nords. The Dunmer embraced the dark aspect of their nature. They had taken the dark and the gloom and made it their own. That was very much in evidence all around the Grey Quarter. It was a slum, yes, that, no matter how much was done to clean it up, the trash from the rest of the city washed down into the much lower neighborhood. However, Dunmer pride was still very much in evidence. Flags were strung across the streets and in front of store with the symbols of Great Houses, major cities and saints on them. Daedric letters were painted on store plaques instead of common letters. The Dunmer of Windhelm had gone to great effort to make Skyrim feel like home. 

Yet, despite all the hard work, there was still an underlying feeling of resignation. This was not home. It was plain to see on every face that Nevano saw. This was not home. Even those who appeared far too young to have been a refugee, who had instead been born and grew up in Skyrim, knew that this was not home. It bothered Nevano more than a little. How bad was it back home that Morrowind’s people would choose to stay in a slum where they were hated over their homeland?

Nevano sighed and walked towards a promising sign. “New Gnisis Cornerclub” the daedric letter spelled out. A promising sign. He might get lucky and find a real drink there. He rather doubted it but at the very least he could get caught up on the latest gossip.

“Welcome, brother. Please, enjoy yourself.” A Dunmer greeted warmly, a small smile lightening his hardened face as he swept up dirt from behind the counter. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to drink from Morrowind would you?” Nevano asked as he slid onto a stool at the counter, not allowing his hopes to get too high. 

“Sorry my friend. I don’t brew and we don’t get shipments from Morrowind here. Anything else I can get you?” the mer never bothered to stop sweeping, as if he had heard that question hundreds of times and knew what the answer would be each time. 

“No. I’ve had more than enough of Nordic alcohol.” Nevano shook his head. He glanced around the room, taking in the holes in the rough floor, the splintering walls, the furniture that was made up of spare pieces. The whole place looked as if one good winter storm should turn it into a pile of splinters. Yet despite this, its owner was still diligently, almost tenderly, cleaning it, keeping it alive. So there was still some hope after all. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” The owner paused in his sweeping, narrowing his ruby eyes just a bit at the lenses. Typical Dunmer; suspicious of anything that covered the face. It was considered rude to keep any sort of headgear on for an extended period of time but Nevano didn’t feel like showing off his golden eyes just yet. “Are you new here from Morrowind?”

“I was once from Morrowind but I’m a traveler. I’ve been all over. Recent to Skyrim though.” 

“You picked a bad place to travel. Nords here hate us. Actually they hate anyone not a Nord. The name’s Ambarys by the way.”

“A pleasure.” Nevano nodded, deliberately not returning with his own name, “Why not go back to Morrowind?”

“When I’ve made enough money I’m going to return to Morrowind in high style.” He stopped sweeping and looked hard at Nevano, “You should consider heading to Morrowind, traveler. Dunmeth Pass is just down the road. Goes straight to Blacklight. Certainly better than staying here.”

“Ambarys, are you going on about leaving Windhelm again?” Another Dunmer walked in, brushing snow off his shoulders as he walked in through the door.

“Faryl.” The bartender Ambarys greeted him with a nod, “I was just telling the newcomer here that since he travels so much he should take the road out of this town to Blacklight.”

“Why? The whole province is falling apart. No one leads Morrowind and whatever isn’t clogged with ash is taken over by angry Argonians.” The newcomer, Faryl, scowled. 

“What would you know Faryl? You’ve never even been to Morrowind!” Ambarys scowled right back, tossing his broom into a corner and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

“I know that we live HERE in Windhelm. We have to make the best of our situation…”

“The best of? How? Despised and living in this filthy slum while begging for work from the Nords?” Ambarys warmed to his subject, “No. We belong in Morrowind with the Empire in charge!”

“The Empire? You mean the same Empire who left you to become Argonian bait?”

Nevano quietly left while the two mer continued to argue, his stomach in knots. Seems hope was a bit harder for some to grasp than others.

Nevano sat on a piling, staring out over the icy water that led out to the ocean. Dawn was just starting to break, a tiny sliver of sun peeking over the horizon in the east turning the sky a pale purple and pink. Dawn, Azura’s time. Nevano sighed and tried to relax but found his tumultuous mind would not settle. It was there that Gunjar found him.

“Are you ok?” Gunjar sat next to him.

“I knew things were tough in Morrowind and many Dunmer left their homeland but this…” Nevano struggled to search for the right description but found that he couldn’t. There was simply no way to sum up the situation in one word. “Every since the Red Year…I know we can’t be accursed. There has to be something that can be done.”

“Where were you during the Red Year?” Gunjar asked, “I’ve never heard you mention it at all and most Dunmer that lived through it have a tale or two about it.”

“I…” Nevano blinked, “I don’t remember. I don’t remember at all.”

“You’d think you’d remember something like that.”

“You’d think so but…it’s not that I don’t recall what I was doing, it’s like the memory is gone from my mind completely.” Nevano said, his mind reeling. He could feel glimpses of memories but every time he reached for them, they dissipated like his cold breath in the wind. “I…can’t recall that year at all. The Red Year, 4E 5. That was the year. I remember the numbers, recall that’s what happened…but I can’t remember anything else!”

“Whoa take it easy there.” Gunjar said, slightly alarmed, “I’ve heard of people blocking out memories of something that was too hard to hear, mostly the families of those who got killed in the war. Maybe this is it?”

“I would remember hearing of it! I would remember the people around me, the spot where I was…why is this gone?”

“Nevano, it’s ok.” Gunjar patted his shoulder, “Let it go for right now. Remember what you told me? We got a job to do right now. We gotta focus on that. I talked to the captain of that ship. His name is Gjalund. He was shaken up pretty bad over those cultists but he agreed to take us over whenever we want to go.”

“How much did you have to bribe him with?” Nevano went along with the subject change, forcing himself to calm down. One breakdown a day was enough. 

“Nothing. I didn’t bribe him.” Gunjar looked decidedly smug, “I used one of your little silver-tongued tricks.”

Nevano finally cracked a small smile, “Makes things much easier doesn’t it?” 

“Don’t get too smug over it.”

“You used the art of persuasion on a fellow Nord.” Nevano smirked slightly, “You still have the subtly of a blind guar blundering through a glass shop. When you can pull one over a Dunmer THEN we’ll talk.”

XxXxXx

The Northern Maiden was a handsome ship, low slung in Nordic fashion with a tall curling bow and stern. Nevano balked the instant he saw it. He had been avoiding thinking about the actual sailing portion of this journey. Now, seeing the ship, which was no bigger than the fishing boats docked around it, he was having some severe misgivings. There was no way that that little boat was going to cross the Sea of Ghosts to Solstheim. He could envision it pitching in wind-tossed seas like a child’s toy in a bucket. His stomach lurched at the thought. Why couldn’t there be a way to put a massive water-walking spell on the horses?

“Gjalund said as long as we stayed out of the way of his crew there shouldn’t be any issues with us on board. Certainly a lot less since we aren’t crazy cultists.” Gunjar said stepping up next to Nevano, oblivious to the mer’s apprehension. “I don’t know about you but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a sailor. Looks like fun though”

“Fun. Right.” Nevano did his best to keep his voice steady as he stepped onboard. As soon as his feet touched the weatherworn wood, his equilibrium evaporated along with any resolve he had. No. He couldn’t do this. Gunjar was going to have to do this on his own. He spun around to get back onto firm ground but ran into something solid and found himself lifted clean off his feet and carried back onto the rocking boat.

“Finally found what scares the smart ass dark elf.” Gunjar said, dumping Nevano against a few boxes that had been stowed near the bow, “I’m not letting you run away from this.”

“The next time you pick me up I better be dying.” Nevano snapped, pressing himself against the boxes, trying to find some sense of stability as the crew prepared the boat to shove off. That was the worst part, the shudder and jolt of the boat pushing away from the dock and the rocking as it reoriented itself with the ebb and flow of the water instead of being tied to a secured to a dock. When it finally came, his stomach lurched with the boat and he grimaced, determined to keep his guts where they belonged. 

“Not a sailor eh?” Gunjar sat on the box that the elf huddled against, watching Windhelm slide by. 

“No. My first experience on a boat I shoved below in a box during a storm. Slave shipment…no one cares how sick they get as long as they make it alive.” Nevano curled into a ball, hating the feeling of everything moving, “Second experience, another storm, another locked box. Prisoner shipment. I’ve never been so sick in my life. They didn’t care if we died. They got paid the same even if they dumped half the bodies overboard for the slaughterfish to eat.”

Gunjar glanced down at the miserable elf, “Right so time for our favorite game of asking highly personal questions only this time with a twist of distracting you from getting seasick. Have you ever been in love?”

“Have you?” Nevano was grumpy enough that he wasn’t wholly up to entertaining Gunjar’s question games. 

“Oh, I’m actually married.”

“No kidding?” Nevano asked dryly, “I just thought you asked me to take an amulet to your mother. Oh wait, you told me she was dead.”

“Yeah. She’s a tough girl.” Gunjar grinned, ignoring the mer’s biting wit. “Met her in my mercenary days. No kids though. Maybe after all this…”

“Wait…you just up and left for Solstheim without even going back to her?” Nevano blinked, “Are you crazy?”

“Ah, she understands. Besides, she’s probably off adventuring as well.” Gunjar said easily, “She doesn’t like to stay at home. Half the time when I go home, we got to do some serious cleaning from all the dust that settled while it was empty! I sent off a letter when we got to Windhelm so she at least knows I’m alive.”

“Her name was Sorosi.” Nevano mumbled abruptly, glaring at the deck.

“What?”

“Sorosi. I met her while I was in Morrowind.” Nevano curled into a tighter ball, tugging his hood down lower, “She was…a noble in House Redoran. The daughter of a man trying for a councilor seat. He moved his family to Ald-ruhn to from Mournhold to better his chances of getting that coveted seat…actually that doesn’t describe much. That was the tale of more than half of the noble families there. She was the cousin to the Arobar family and the happened to be visiting them at their manor the day I went to go beg Minor Arobar to be named Hortator. She was…By Azura she was beautiful. We got to talking for a bit and after that I started making up excuses to go through Ald-ruhn during my travels after that.”

“So what happened to her? You never mentioned a wife…”

“Not every love story has a happy ending my friend.”

“Did she…?”

“I have no idea if she’s alive or where she is.” Nevano sighed, “I let her go. Her options were to follow her family’s wishes and marry the man they had picked out for her, or be exiled and live her life traveling the wild with me. Her family would never have anything to do with her ever again if she had gone with me. Her father hated me and would disown her without hesitation. I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t separate her from her family like that. So I let her go. She married the other man and I avoided Ald-ruhn after that. 

Gunjar just stared at him.

“Don’t even start with me.” Nevano halted Gunjar before he could open his mouth, “I’ve been chewed out up one side and down the other over the years for leaving her. It is what it is.”

“Actually I was going to say that maybe you should look for her after all is said and done.”

“Oh…” Nevano blinked, “Well…maybe. I guess, if only to give her the chance to slap me across the face.”

“Didn’t you say that you get that from half the women you meet anyway?”

“I…really can’t even refute that.” Nevano glared as a few nearby sailors snickered. This was going to be a long boat ride.

Several long miserable days passed. Gunjar seemed to have salt water in his veins. After he got used to the pitch and sway of the boat he moved happily about, often standing at the bow to watch the waves and point out the different animals that would follow the boat in curiosity. Nevano stayed curled in a ball against the box, his jaw clenching every time the boat gave a lurch out of rhythm with the swells. He was more than ready for this torturous journey to be over.

“Would you look at that?” Gunjar breathed in awe.

Nevano looked up. Gunjar was standing on the prow of the ship, looking out to the southeast. At least he wasn’t bugging Nevano to come look at some fish. The Dunmer followed his gaze and nearly choked. There, slightly obscured in the hazy distance, was Red Mountain, smoke rising from it in a mighty column. Numbly, Nevano rose to his feet and stumbled on unsteady legs over to stand next to Gunjar, not once taking his eyes off the mountain. Seeing the mountain brought back dozens of memories, not all of which were necessarily bad but still caused an uncomfortable rise of emotions. 

“That’s Red Mountain?” Gunjar asked quietly, “It’s…impressive. A lot angrier than the Throat of the World that’s for sure, look at all that smoke.”

“Evil resided in its heart for hundreds of years. It has a right to it.” Nevano said. He vividly remembered how angry Red Mountain felt. The sulphery stench of it, the temperatures making even his heat-tolerant skin feel like it was going to crack and burn clean off his bones. He could still see the rush of death rolling down the mountain towards him…wait, the rush of…what? Nevano narrowed his eyes. There was a flicker of a memory, of heat and terror and destruction. He just couldn’t recall what it was or where. He pushed at the memory and all of a sudden was swept up in a rush of fire and death. The dam had broken and he was overwhelmed with the flood of fire and death. He remembered. He hadn’t forgotten anything. It had been locked away but now it was gushed forth in a horrible wave that made him want to vomit. 

“Nevano? You ok?” Gunjar’s voice cut through the jumble of memories, “You look like you just saw a ghost.” 

“Gunjar I…I remember where I was.” Nevano started to shake.

“What? For what?”

“The Red Year. I remember now.” hot tears began streaming down the mer’s face, burning like tracks of molten lava, “I remember everything.”

“Nevano, tell me.”

“I was in Vvardenfell. I was outside Vivec City. I was there…I saw the whole thing!”

XxXxXx


	17. Welcome to Solstheim

Chapter 16

Welcome to Solstheim

XxXxXx

Vvardenfell, Morrowind – 4E 5

This trip had him jittery. 

Normally, going back to Morrowind did not have him so on edge. Stressed, maybe, but Jorun had convinced him to stop micromanaging and let Morrowind rule herself. It had been nerve-wracking at first with things feeling like they were teetering on the edge of a knife but that was normal, or so he had been assured. The entire political and religious base of Morrowind had been cracked in half and then crushed into dust. Things were just starting to go back to normal, as was Nevano’s nerves and stress level. He had even stayed in Cyrodiil for a while, taking up a few contracts with the Fighters Guild again. His old guild mates had been thrilled to have him back again. Modryn had been too. He hadn’t actually said anything, that wasn’t his way, but he had shown his approval by giving Nevano the insane, thus fun, contracts. The man certainly knew how to make a mer feel special. 

Now Nevano was incredibly uneasy. He felt like he was crawling into a cave full of bandits. He had been catching whispers of rumors, things that moved in the shadows but disappeared in the dark as soon as he tried to catch a closer look. None of it bode well. In fact, he had gotten so uneasy he had convinced Jorun to move off Vvardenfell. It hadn’t been easy but Jorun was a mer who could appreciate gut feelings and the need to act on them. Thank Azura his wife was as understanding as she was and hadn’t killed either of them for completely uprooting the family. That had settled the knot in his stomach a little but with each step he took towards Vivec City, the knot tightened again. The first thing he had heard as of a floating city that had appeared over Black Marsh. Nevano was fairly certain that nothing good could come from that. However, he put that one in the back of his mind. Let the Argonians worry over that. He’d worry if it started moving northward. The other thing that was capturing his immediate attention was rumors of some sort of engine in Vivec that was keeping up Baar Dau. 

THAT was a major source of irritation for him. Baar Dau, or the Ministry of Truth as it was better known, was the giant rock that hung suspended over Vivec City, held back from destroying the city by the warrior-poet’s powers. Anger from both his own soul as well as Nerevar’s welled up. Vivec had had every opportunity to remove the moon from its precarious position, both while he was at full power and after Nevano had permanently cut him off from the Heart, but he never did. It was the ultimate act of selfishness, continuing to hold a moon over the heads of those who had once worshipped him even after the great deception was revealed. Now he was gone. Despite the many rumors and theories, Nevano strongly suspected that a daedric prince had taken him to be punished for his transgressions. Azura, Mephala or Boethia were all good suspects. 

Now the magic holding Baar Dau was starting to fail, causing the fractured powers that had been trying to run the province to frantically scramble to find a way to keep the damned rock in the sky. While Nevano couldn’t help solve that problem, indeed he didn’t have the knowledge nor the skills to even consider contributing, he had caught on to the rumors of what they had come up with and it was, to say the least, alarming. An engine that ran on souls was their brilliant solution. The mere thought sent cold shivers down his spine. Did no one see the drawback to this plan? It ran on SOULS. What would happen when the souls ran out? Where were those poor souls going? What dark power had they made a pact with to come up with this monstrosity? So many questions and he was pretty certain the answers would not bring about any sort of comfort. 

He stopped on top of a small hill. The Foreign Canton rose up in the early morning mist, as forbidding as it was magnificent. A small smile tugged at the corners of Nevano’s lips as he thought about all the trouble he had caused over the years in Vivec City, lightening his mood a bit. Some of that trouble he regretted a little bit but most of it he felt was well deserved. He had no regrets for the headaches he caused the Ordinators over the years. He had to say he was impressed with Ordinators. They were temple guards, holy soldiers essentially. With the fall of the Tribunal, they could have fallen to pieces and made everyone’s life miserable but had instead turned their focus into keeping order with the populace, relaxing their infamous rigid intolerance a tad. It didn’t quite make up for all their tiffs in the past, but Nevano was happy enough that everyone was learning to get past the Temple falling apart. 

Nevano took a few more moments to look around before he made his way to the city. The mist rising off the calm bay waters was starting to burn off as the sun rose higher. It was going to be another hot humid day. He could start to make out sails out on the water, the smaller sails of fishing boats to the larger masts of massive transports making their way to Vivec’s port. He could see the silt strider, glinting in the light as the morning dew slid off its back. He frowned a little. Was it just the fog or was the silt strider moving around an awful lot? He was pretty certain the giant insect wasn’t due to leave for Balmora for another few hours. He looked around for the caravaner and found the mer desperately trying to sooth the giant insect, but the strider was having none of it. As Nevano watched in utter astonishment, the silt strider broke away from the platform and began to scuttle off into the wilderness, its driver running frantically after it. 

Nevano could only stare. He had never seen a silt strider act like that. The caravaners raised their silt striders from eggs, forming a close bond with the massive creatures. If anything, the silt striders ran TO the drivers, never away. He had never heard of the docile creatures acting out. He watched after the swath the giant bug had cut into the trees. It was running…not directly away from the city, but to the east, along the coast. Strange…and worrying. Something had thoroughly spooked a creature that normally was not frightened of anything. 

A deep resonating boom made him look up sharply, ears twitching. It sounded like boulders crashing down a mountain but it was coming from…Vivec? Nevano started to run down the hill towards the city. Something was wrong, desperately wrong. Another boom shook the ground violently, throwing Nevano on his face for the rest of the way down the hill. He rolled to a stop with a grunt. He could feel blood dripping down his face. Ignoring his broken nose, he scrambled to his feet as best he could with the ground still vibrating angrily beneath his feet. He started to run towards Vivec again when something seemed to freeze his limbs in place. For terrifying second he thought he had been attacked from behind by a mage but he didn’t have the pain the usually accompanied an ice attack. Nerevar? 

Before he had anymore time to wonder, the world seemed to invert itself. The explosion was so loud the sound seemed to pierce clean through his body, rattling the very marrow in his bones. He screamed at the agony assaulting his ears but his voice was completely lost in the roar around him. The force of the explosion threw him off his feet and onto his back. The ground shook even more violently, then began to break underneath him. Nevano forced his eyes open.

Vivec was collapsing. The very thing everyone had been afraid had just happened. Baar Dau had fallen, the city was collapsing into the massive hole that suddenly appeared in the middle of the bay. The sea began to boil furiously as the super heated rock burned right through it. The cavern it created was greedily swallowing up ground as it broke up and splintered. Nevano scrambled as best he could as shock numbed his brain. The only thing that registered was to get away from the collapse, to not be swallowed by the increasing hole. He ran until the shaking ground pitched him back down again. He hadn’t made it very far but at least the ground was still whole here…for now. 

Each breath seared his throat, threatening to collapse his airway. He gagged, retching as noxious fumes from the boiling salt water triggered his body to start bailing out everything in his stomach in an effort to keep the poison out. He clawed at the ground, trying to find something, anything, that would ground him but it was fruitless as the earth continued to buck and heave underneath him like a wild animal. Then, beneath the screaming of the last of Vivec City falling into the sea, came an ominous rushing noise. It was quiet at first but every instinct in Nevano’s body woke up and began shrieking at him in a panic to run, that that rushing noise that was getting louder by the second was far more deadly than the carnage around him.

Nevano looked up to the north, to Red Mountain. The mountain itself wasn’t visible at this distance but the cloud was. Angry smoke billowed up in massive clouds, more belching out with accompanying explosions of thunder. Red flashes broke through the smoke occasionally like lightning but Nevano knew that it wasn’t the thunder and lightning of a rainstorm. No, it was something much, much worse.

Worse came in the form of the wave. It came rolling down from the mountain, swallowing everything in its path. Red and black, the colors of death, was washing over Vvardenfell at an alarming rate. There was no running from it, despite what his panicked instincts insisted he do. He simply couldn’t. There was no way he could physically get away. This was it. This was the face of his death. Red Mountain was going to finish what she tried to start years ago. Tears started to roll down Nevano’s face but the growing heat evaporated them before they made it halfway down his cheeks. He had maybe seconds before he was consumed. Strangely, he was ok with death. Instead he grieved for the people who had to deal with the aftermath of this destruction. He grieved for those who were already dead. He had no grief left for himself. It was almost here. For the first time in his life, his eyes turned red, reflecting off the deadly rush coming towards him. His skin, pushed beyond its natural tolerance, began to blister from the heat. He sucked in one final breath of smoky fumes, feeling his throat all the way to his lungs sear in agony, and closed his eyes. 

The sudden drop onto the hard cobblestones startled him badly, knocking the air clean from his lungs. He gasped and desperately sucked in a mouthful of clean air, causing him to start choking and dry heaving. A scream pierced through the haze. He tried to open his eyes but he could barely make out shadows. For an alarming moment he thought he had gone blind. He tried to move but his muscles locked. He couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from an actual injury. As tense, frantic voices slowly began filtering in through his rapidly churning mind, he decided that it would just be best to stay on the ground and just continue to get clear air cycled into his lungs. Yes, that sounded best. The cool stones felt good on his blistered skin. Just stay down…

“How did he get here? He just appeared!”

“Magic, that’s what that was.”

“…out of thin air…”

“…one of the Fighters Guild…”

“Out of my way, MOVE!” A familiar bellow reached Nevano’s ears, acting like a balm to his tormented mind. He could hear disgruntled voices protesting, very briefly, as the owner of that bellow easily bulled his way through the crowd. “Nevano what happened? I thought you were…”

Nevano’s vision cleared minutely, not that he needed it at that moment. He knew Modryn Oreyn was there. The warrior kneeling next to him where he lay on the ground, looking all at once concerned, worried and impatient. He knew that look well; it was the same look he got every time he fell back into the guildhall badly injured. Feeling a bit bolstered by the strong presence of his adoptive parent next to him, Nevano tried to look around but the rest of the world was a confusing blur of colors and shapes. He was fairly certain that the pale orbs that surrounded him were faces. He apparently had attracted quite the crowd when he had appeared suddenly out of thin air. He swiped at his face, feeling nothing but a mask of thick gritty ash. No wonder he couldn’t see. 

“Nevano!”

In automatic obedience he tried to answer but as he took in the breath needed to speak he began to cough all over again, gagging up a mouthful of ash, aggravating his already ravaged throat. He was starting to become more aware of himself, the numbness brought on by shock fading away, allowing him to feel every sharp ache and pain on his battered body. He had sustained far more injuries than he initially realized. 

“C’mon. Enough. Let’s get you inside.” Nevano was lifted completely to his feet, strong arms keeping him from falling over again. He was glad for it. He could feel his legs shaking underneath him and he was pretty certain that if Modryn hadn’t been holding him up, he would have immediately collapsed back onto the ground. 

“Red Mountain.” He croaked out, not recognizing his own voice. He was used to the rough edge his voice took on after he had been to Morrowind for an extended period of time. Everyone’s voice did, especially Dunmer who were predisposed to it. This was something else entirely. He probably shouldn’t be speaking, not with his throat as seared as it was but he had to tell them. He had to deliver the horrific news. “It’s gone.”

Instantly all the whispers and murmurs that Nevano hadn’t been aware of until now went silent. The grip on his arms tightened just a tad.

“What do you mean ‘gone’, boy?” Modryn’s voice was tight. Nevano couldn’t tell if it was from anger or worry. Modryn usually didn’t call him “boy” unless he was really annoyed. 

Nevano gathered the last of his failing energy to burst out one final statement. “It erupted. Vvardenfell is gone…” With that he slumped, barely conscious, into Oreyn’s arms, the sounds of shocked voices barely registering in his mind as he was whisked into the guildhall. Just before he slid fully into the darkness he heard a whisper in his mind, the now familiar voice that was more felt instead of heard.

“Now is not your time, my champion. I am not done with you yet. You will not remember this, not right now. In time, you will, when the time is right.” 

XxXxXx

Raven Rock, Solstheim – 4E 201 Sun’s Height

Nevano clenched his hands so hard blood began to ooze from between his fingers. The flood of memories of that terrible year was overwhelming. He remembered now how he had woken up in the guildhall and, when Modryn had tried to question him about the eruption, he couldn’t remember anything. He remembered the look he had gotten, the whispers that followed him around for weeks until confirmation had come in that Red Mountain had indeed erupted. Still the looks and rumors had haunted him. People had thought he had gone crazy and didn’t believe him when he tried to say he really didn’t remember anything. Modryn had believed him, he HAD dropped from out of nowhere after all, but he didn’t let Nevano leave for a good while after that. That feeling like maybe he WAS crazy, that he couldn’t remember, that followed him for years. 

“Nevano. Nevano!” Gunjar was beyond alarmed. The other sailors were starting to take notice and the consensus was if Nevano couldn’t get control of himself, he’d be dunked in the ocean. 

“I was there, Gunjar.” He finally ground out through clenched teeth, “I was there and there was nothing I could DO to save anyone!”

“Nevano, you gotta calm down!”

“You don’t understand, Gunjar!” Nevano whipped around on him, eyes practically glowing, “I was outside Vivec. I saw that damn rock crash into the city. I got thrown back from the impact…the whole city just SANK. Then I felt it…I felt Red Mountain grow angry. Then she destroyed everything. I could see it. I could see the red wave coming towards me. I was going to die then. I was supposed to die! Then…I was dropped to the ground outside Chorrol.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I DIDN’T!” Nevano snarled, fury mingling with the anguish in his already tumultuous mind, “Azura did!”

“Azura…”

“The daedric prince!” 

“I know who Azura is! I didn’t think she would extend her reach into the mortal world like that.”

Nevano let anger take over, allowing it to push away the anguish the destructive memories was causing. In the recesses of his mind, a comforting murmur tried to calm him. He knew he was allowing himself to over-react but it was all just…overwhelming. Finally, after several long tense moments, he relaxed. “I don’t know why she caused me to forget. I’m still not sure why she wanted me to live. I have no idea why she dropped me in Chorrol. So many questions…I doubt I’ll ever find the answers.”

“You think maybe she wanted you to spread the word of what happened? I mean, a dark elf covered in ash and just dropping out of thin air will start up gossip, especially if he starts going on about the volcano going off.” Gunjar leaned against the railing now that he was no longer afraid of the sailors throwing an out of control elf overboard, “I’m no expert on daedra but wouldn’t she hold this back to maybe rally you when it came time? I mean she has something planned obviously. I know you’ve been having dreams or visions or whatever.” Nevano shot him a swift glance. “You talk in your sleep when she comes to you, plus you toss and turn like a fish out of water. I’m starting to think that maybe you coming to Solstheim is less your offer to help me and more Azura putting her plans for you in motion.”

“When did you get so insightful?” Nevano grumbled, more to himself than anything.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you derail the conversation…for now.” Gunjar sighed, already seeing where this was heading, “We’re almost to Raven Rock anyway. But don’t dismiss the idea totally. Think about it.” 

When Raven Rock finally came into sight, Nevano was a bit shocked at its transformation but not unpleasantly so. Once an Imperial settlement it now screamed out Dunmer. The insect-like shaped buildings that were undeniably Redoran had replaced all the wooden cabins. Off to the west side of town was the earth stone and…was that scaffolding around it? Nevano guessed that someone was trying to preserve it or something. What really caught his attention was the massively thick wall that separated the settlement from the wilderness. He quickly recognized the wall. He had seen it in his dreams months ago. 

“Well, here we are. This is Raven Rock. Can’t say I’m all that glad to see it again.” Gjalund said, coming up behind them, as his crew got ready to throw mooring ropes to the dock, “Good luck. Maybe you can figure out what’s going on around here.”

They docked gently and it took every ounce of restraint Nevano had in his body to keep from scrambling off the boat like a dog off a leash. He didn’t care about dignity at this point. He was done with the boat, sailing and the sea in general. If man or mer were meant to live on the water they’d have fins and gills!

A stern looking Dunmer strode purposefully down the dock towards the ship. Swiftly Nevano pulled his hood back up over his face and made sure his cloak hid the twin swords on his hips. He rather doubted anyone would recognize him but he didn’t want to take any chances. It was generally considered a social faux pas among Dunmer society to keep one’s face hidden. It immediately bred distrust and suspicion that something was being hidden. Nevano was pretty certain he had broken every bit of Dunmeri etiquette at some point in time, but this was one he didn’t care about. He didn’t want to be recognized, not just yet. 

“I don’t recognize you, so I’ll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander.” He stated without preamble, frowning as he looked between Gunjar and Nevano, “I am Second Councilor Adril Arano. State your intentions.” Nevano swallowed hard. He recognized the name Arano. That was a pretty large and rather influential family back from Vvardenfell. It had been decades since he had heard that…or been called an outlander. 

“I am…” Gunjar grunted when Nevano nudged him in the back, “Just here looking for work.”

“You’ve picked one of the worst places in Morrowind to do that, but suit yourself.” The councilor shrugged, “Just remember, Raven Rock is sovereign territory of House Redoran. This is Morrowind, not Skyrim. While you’re here you will be expected to abide by our laws. Any questions?”

“Are you always so suspicious of strangers?” Nevano’s eyes went wide behind his lenses in horror. He could have kicked the Nord for that! What in oblivion kind of question was that? Did he not just hear that they were NO LONGER IN SKYRIM?! Idiot human! By the way the guard close by on the dock twitched and looked over he seemed to have the exact same sentiments. 

“I have to be. As Second Councilor, the security of Raven Rock is my primary concern.” The mer seemed patient enough, but there was a hint of an edge, one that suggested that he had no problem telling off the nosy stranger…or giving him a burial at sea under the docks. 

“Has security been an issue lately?” Nevano resigned himself to just listening. There was no recovering gracefully at this point. 

“This isn’t exactly the city of Blacklight.” The councilor said dryly, “We’re on the frontier out here, and we’ve had more than a fair share of troubles. After all we’ve been through together, I refuse to let Councilor Morvayn down.”

“Councilor?” Nevano perked up a bit. He knew that name. Morvayn…Morvayn…Ah yes. Councilor Brara Morvayn. He had met her back in Ald’ruhn, while trying to get his Hortator title from House Redoran. Her council seat had been an incredibly recent one, not even a few days old. Her husband had been killed defending their home from corprus beasts and she had taken refuge in the Redoran Council Hall with her young son. Nevano had cleared her house of Dagoth Ur’s taint in a small gesture of thanks for her helping him, feeling it was the least he could for her. 

“Councilor Morvayn is House Redoran’s representative on Solstheim. As Second Councilor, it’s my job to support him and make certain his rule in enforced.”

“Wait…you said Blacklight?”

“Your ignorance of our homeland doesn’t surprise me.” Nevano didn’t believe it was possible but Adril’s voice went even dryer, “It’s the capital of Morrowind…been that way ever since Mournhold was sacked by the Argonians. I don’t visit there often anymore, but we still get the occasional supply ship and visitors from there.”

“The Argonians invaded?” Nevano nearly groaned out loud. He could have sworn he had had this conversation with Gunjar before, hadn’t he? 

“Quite a while ago, yes. They cut a bloody swath across most of the southern region of Morrowind. Nobody seems certain why it happened…an attempt at expansion, revenge for the enslavement of their people or perhaps both. Whatever the case may be, thousands of Dunmer needlessly lost their lives and many more were exiled from their homeland.” 

“Thank you sir.” Nevano couldn’t hold back his sigh of relief as the mer seemed to be mollified by Gunjar’s show of manners, partially at least. Every elf within hearing distance still thought the Nord was a dunce…but at least a polite one. He prodded Gunjar off the ship before he could open his mouth again. 

“Gjalund. I was starting to wonder what happened to you.” Adril turned his attention to the captain. Nevano perked an ear up to listen as they made their way down the dock.

“We, uh…we were delayed by bad weather.” Gjalund stammered, then straightened up, “Before you even ask…yes, I have the supplies you requested. But…”

“But what?”

“This load cost me double what we had agreed on. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Damn it, Gjalund. You know we don’t have that much coin.” Adril rubbed at his forehead in frustration.

“Look, the East Empire Company didn’t give me a choice. They’ve raised their prices again, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“After all these years, they’re gouging us for every last drake we have. Let me talk to Lleril. I’ll see what we can do.”

“All right, Adril. Don’t worry about rushing it. Just pay me when you can.”

They stepped off the dock onto dry land, wobbling a little bit as they got used to the ground under their feet not moving, Nevano finally turned his attention back to Gunjar, “You have no tact, you know that, right?”

“I got Gjalund to get us here, didn’t I?” Gunjar didn’t sound too offended. In fact, he sounded a little pleased with himself. Nevano felt his eye twitch a little. 

“Gjalund is a ship captain. That was councilor for House Redoran!” Nevano didn’t quite yell, “Ok, maybe I should have warned you. I should have given you a few pointers on Morrowind mannerisms, maybe even a few history lessons. That was my fault. But for Azura’s sake let me do the talking next time. You are going to get us kicked off the damned island before we can get any sort of helpful information. There’s an ART to this. Granted you caught that councilor in a good mood and he gave up some things that were interesting to me, not sure if you picked up on them.”

“Such as what?”

“For starters, I might know the councilor that runs this place. I know the name Morvayn but Adril kept saying ‘he’.” Nevano tilted his head from side to side, “The Morvayn I knew was a she but this could very well be her son. Haven’t seen that kid since he was…still in his mother’s arms. I’m real curious about that but it’s not hugely important.” 

“What else did you pick up?”

“Fear. These people are afraid but they don’t want us, two outlanders, to know.”

“Why not ask us for help instead? Everyone in Skyrim does.” Gunjar was genuinely confused, “Besides, you’re a Dunmer. Why wouldn’t they trust you?”

“Because you are a Nord with a Skyrim accent in Skyrim.” Nevano explained patiently, “You were one of them, someone who understands Skyrim’s ways, her people and the land. Here, you are no longer in Skyrim. Here we might as well wear signs around our necks that say ‘new to town’. Dunmer don’t like outsiders. I might be of the same race but they don’t know me…thus, I’m an outsider as much as you are.” Nevano watched a pair of guards walk by, hands on the hilts of their weapons. That was a worrying sign. “If we are polite and figure out ways to help, we’ll endear ourselves to them pretty quick. Remember that if you go outside Skyrim again. It’s pretty universal for integrating yourself.”

Gunjar nodded, then frowned, “You haven’t taken those lenses off.”

“Would you believe my eyes are still bothering me?”

“Not as much as you would like me to.”

“Alright, then I noticed you haven’t mentioned you are the Dragonborn.” Nevano smiled, “You barely grunted out your name. You didn’t even tell that old salt captain did you?”

“I want people to know me as Gunjar, not as the Dovahkiin.”

“Thus the lenses stay on.”

“Oh…” Gunjar rubbed at the back of his head, “I keep forgetting about your eyes.”

“If only I heard that more often. Ok, we need a moment to work out a plan…” Nevano looked around. His eyes fell on a tattered sign with familiar daedric letters. It had been far too long since he had seen such a sign. “ ‘The Retching Netch’. Nice name. That has got to be a corner club.”

“A what?”

“A tavern.” Nevano grinned, “They might have actual drinks there! Not to mention the people that run it always know what’s going on.”

“There were drinks in Skyrim.”

“Horse piss. I haven’t had a decent drink in decades!” Nevano tugged Gunjar towards the rounded building, as excited as a little kid, “Oh, and you let me talk. Keep your mouth shut and watch the master work his magic.”

“The last time I heard that was from a whore in Riften…”

“And just like that I want to poison your drink…”

Walking into The Retching Netch felt like coming home. The top floor was arranged around the staircase downstairs. A fire crackling in the back warded off the damn sea chill. There were a few people sitting and nursing their drinks. They were quiet and a bit tense, not really sparing the new comers much more than a cursory glance. Downstairs there were more tables, and a few patrons including one young woman who looked incredibly upset. As with upstairs the mood was somber and quiet, confirming Nevano’s earlier statement. Things weren’t just bad here in Raven Rock they were horrendous. People were uncertain and scared.

“Welcome to the Retching Netch Cornerclub, home of the finest sujamma that will ever grace your lips.” Even the barkeep’s cheerful greeting sounded a bit forced. There were tension lines around his eyes though he looked happy enough to see more customers. 

Nevano dropped his hood, “Sujamma…by Azura, there’s sujamma here. Finally…a real drink.”

“What is…sujamma?” Gunjar asked, hesitant.

“Sujamma is a liquor made with comberries and, well, whatever we happen to have locally.” The barkeeper grinned, “Can’t tell you how it’s made. Each brewer has his secrets and sujamma is it. Just know its got a kick like a guar; very strong and just as stupid.”

Nevano felt like he could cry when a mug was slid over to him. After months in Skyrim where it was fermented sugar and watery beer as far as the eye could see, it was heartening to see and smell the potent Dunmeri brew again. He took a deep draught, relishing in the feeling of a sweet and powerful fire pour down his throat and settle into a buzzing heat in his stomach. He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth as his mouth recovered from the tingle of strong alcohol. “Oh dear sweet Azura it’s been way too long…” he groaned, letting his head thunk onto the table. 

The barkeep grinned, “Been a while since I got such an appreciative response to my drinks.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good drink!” Nevano said, lifting his head up, “What’s wrong, Gunjar? Drink up.”

Gunjar eyed the dark liquid with trepidation before taking a swig. Almost immediately he began coughing and came up sputtering, barely able to get the swallow of strong drink down his throat. The smatter of patrons grinned and chortled a little watching the Nord struggle with the sujamma. 

Nevano laughed, “What is this? An elf can hold his alcohol better than a Nord? I told you that Skyrim didn’t have any real drinks!”

The mer behind the counter laughed, shaking his head, “Skyrim has nothing on Morrowind drinks. I’m guessing that’s where you two outlanders are from. Geldis Sadri by the way. I own the place.”

“I’m from…all over.” Nevano answered honestly, “Gunjar here is from Skyrim. I’ve been telling him for months that mead is not a real drink. He didn’t believe me. He does now, I think, though I don’t think he’ll ever get used to real booze.”

“We certainly don’t get many strangers in here.” Geldis said, “But I have to say, it was nice to get a laugh out of this crowd. Been too somber lately. Some fresh blood was just the thing it needed.” 

“I noticed everyone in town is a bit tense.” Nevano saw his opportunity to bring up the subject without appearing too nosy.

“Aye. Things have been rough since the mines closed.” Geldis nodded, cleaning out a glass, “That’s been…what, 20 years now? Whole town had to take to hunting and fishing to survive.”

Nevano raised his eyebrows in surprise. When he had watched the mines open, he had heard one old man declare there was enough ebony in the mines for at least the next 500 years. Could he really have been 300 years off? That didn’t make any sense.

“Been tough since.” Geldis continued on, “Had a incident with a Hlaalu assassin some years back. Nasty bit of business that.”

Nevano nodded, taking another swig of sujamma. Gunjar started to open his mouth but Nevano swiftly kicked him under the bar in a warning to be silent. That was not how the game was played. Geldis was coming to the subject they wanted to hear…the trick was to not directly ask for it. To directly ask, especially as a fresh-off-the-boat outlander, was considered nosy and rude and inspired suspicion where they needed trust. After Gunjar’s display of blunt impatience on the boat, Nevano was determined to teach this kid some semblance of subtly even if he had to do it in a non-subtle way…like with the blunt side of an axe head. 

“Now there are those monsters.” Geldis shook his head, “Ash spawn, the guards have taken to calling them. The attacks are on the Bulwark are getting worse. The Captain is trying his best, but I think the Redoran Guard is getting overwhelmed. He was determined to figure the source out. He set out…huh, a few days ago. I think he took Daynil with him. He should be back by now.” Nevano noted he shot a look over to the young woman who seemed to wilt a little more. 

“The Captain?”

“Yes. The Captain of the Redoran Guard here in Raven Rock. Good man.” Geldis openly looked over at the young woman, “Next one is on me, Dreyla.” The woman, Dreyla, looked up and gave him a small appreciative smile before dropping her gaze back into her mug.

“Have you heard the name Miraak before?” Gunjar broke in, his impatience boiling over. Nevano shot him a nasty glare that was completely lost on the much younger man. 

“I might know someone. Or maybe not.” Geldis frowned, “I can’t remember…”

“What do you mean?”

“I…I can’t. I just can’t be sure.” Geldis held his head, as if trying to capture the memory was physically paining him, “I think maybe he had something to do with a temple. A temple here on the island. Does that help?”

“A little bit.” Gunjar said slowly, “What’s that being built outside of town over there? We could see the scaffolding from the docks.”

“The Earth Stone and…it’s a shrine that…Hmm, I can’t recall.” By now Nevano’s ears were twitching. 

“Why would a shrine be built there?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to remember.”

Nevano put his hand on Gunjar’s should and stood up. “Thank you Geldis. We got an island to explore but count on me coming back for more sujamma.”

“I’ll save you a glass.” Geldis turned his attention back to his bar as the two left the corner club. 

“Well that helped.” Nevano said as they walked away from the center of town.

“A bit.”

“No, that helped a lot.” Nevano stopped and turned to the Nord, “The Earth Stone is one of the All-Maker Stones that dot the island. There’re six in all, created by the All-Maker. You want to know more about that you’ll need to talk to the Skaal. They’re on the eastern side of the island, east then north. In fact, you should probably speak to them anyways at some point. They’re an interesting people. Anyway the stones are sacred to them and they usually keep them pretty free of corruption. The fact that no one seems to remember anything and are building shrines on a sacred object is pretty worrisome. You might start searching for Miraak at this stone. Maybe it can give you a clue. Funny…I don’t remember a temple the last time I was here but that was a very long time ago and a lot has changed since.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to see if I can’t help Raven Rock.” Nevano folded his arms over his chest, “A lot of things aren’t making sense here. That mine shouldn’t have run out of ebony and monsters attacking? Something is definitely going on and I want to find out what.”

Gunjar nodded, “A hero’s work is never done eh?”

“Nope!” Nevano held out his hand, “Good luck my friend.”

“You too.” Gunjar grasped his wrist, “Time to set this island straight…again, for you at least.”

“Last one finished buys the other drinks.”

“Deal!”

Nevano watched as Gunjar set off in the opposite direction across town, towards the Earth Stone. Silently, Nevano said a quick prayer to Azura to watch over the boy. He had a feeling that Solstheim, just like last time, was holding a nasty surprise for the young hero. Hopefully not as nasty as Hircine’s little hunt but this madman that was enslaving the whole island one by one and taking over sacred sites? That spelled out trouble. A lot of trouble. As soon as he was out of sight, Nevano turned and went out the gate. Time to find his own bit of trouble to get into. Truefire and Hopesflame flared briefly in agreement. 

XxXxXx


	18. The Stranger

Chapter 17

The Stranger

XxXxXx

4E 201, Sun’s Height - Blacklight, Morrowind

Jorun Veleth glared at the paperwork on his desk. It was late, Masser and Secunda high in the sky. His wife was going to be annoyed but it couldn’t be helped. That was the drawback to being at the top of the rank chain; he had more paperwork to do than anyone else. He hated it with a burning passion. He was a fighter, not a clerk. His wife would disagree. She would roll her eyes and say something about him being too old for such things anymore. To someone with fighting blood in their veins, there was no such thing. He would die with a sword in his hand, this he was sure of. 

Footsteps echoed through the stone halls, approaching his office door. He paused, quill midair, eyes narrowing a little. This late at night there was hardly anyone up here in the offices. He could just be a paranoid old fetcher…but he hadn’t lived this long by not listening to what his gut was telling him. Just as the footsteps stopped outside his door, he slid a handful of documents he’d rather remain unseen into a drawer. 

There was a brisk knock at the door and one of his lieutenants came in before he could answer. Instantly he could see that this was no pleasant visit or urgent report. She was walking stiffly, her shoulders squared and her eyes tight with resentment. She had her hand on the hilt of her sword at her hip, her knuckles showing white through her gray skin. Jorun didn’t have to wonder at the source of her irritation long; it followed her right through the door. 

“Sir, this is…”

“I know who he is.” Jorun cut her off. Oh he knew this particular fetcher. They had clashed before. Ocanlil was First Emissary Calindil’s brother and one of his top lackeys. Ocanlil thought he was a trusted ambassador to his brother but in reality he was simply used for his sadistic force in finding out hidden secrets. Jorun had come close to opening the Thalmor’s throat on multiple occasions but each time prudence stayed his hand. All in all, not what Jorun wanted to deal with this late at night, “Anything I can help you with, Ocanlil, before I throw you out the window?”

“Now, now Jorun, there’s no need for such hostilities.”

“That’s a load of shit and you know it.” Jorun had a personal rule: he didn’t bother being pleasant after midnight. “What do you want? Be quick about it.”

“You are the reigning… “expert”, of sorts, on the Nerevarine.” Ocanlil took his cue from the irate mer in front of him and dropped the pleasantries himself, adopting a harsher tone, “I want information. You will give it to me. Now.”

Jorun reached into his desk and pulled out a book and tossed it at the Thalmor. “There. It’s on the Nerevarine, written after he killed Dagoth Ur. It’s called a history book. Read it.”

Ocanlil growled and swiped at the book, knocking it to the ground. The lieutenant glared and her hand tightened impossibly on her weapon at the insult. Jorun stilled her with a quick wave of his hand. “I am NOT in the mood for your little tricks, Captain. I want to know the man himself. What does he look like, where he is and what his motives are!”

Jorun crossed his arms. “Well, then you’re out of luck. I have not seen the mer since he left for Akavir. That was before the Oblivion Crisis. If you’d bother reading history once in a while you’d know that but by your reaction I see how that turned out.”

Now the real difference between the two Thalmor was starting to come through, something that Jorun both was wary of and happy enough to exploit. First Emissary Calindil never lost his cool. He kept up his oily pretense, no matter how much Dunmer hostility he ran across. Ocanlil was very easily shaken out of that indifference he tried so hard to emulate from his brother. While it often meant he would resort to violence that much faster, it made derailing him that much easier. Jorun found it highly amusing to rile the man up only for him to be reprimanded by his brother later. Small petty victories, but a victory nonetheless. 

“I knew the Nerevarine, that I will not deny.” Jorun said carefully, making sure that this wouldn’t turn violent. As much as he dearly wanted the excuse to shove a sword through this Thalmor’s throat, it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with the fallout over right now, not just yet. Sadly he couldn’t pass off killing this mer as easily as he had the last ambassador getting ‘lost’ in the swamp, “However he is gone, has been for over 200 years. I’m an old man. My memory is not what it was.”

“You are always going on and on about him returning!” Ocanlil was practically stomping in outrage like a spoiled child. Jorun found the comparison quite fitting. 

“As anyone would wish for a friend to return one day.” Jorun smirked inwardly, recognizing the defeated frustration, “Much as I wish my son would visit more often than he does.”

“He was seen in Chorrol! He was seen in Skyrim!” Ocanlil was getting more and more worked up, causing Jorun to drop a hand casually on the hilt of his sword, just in case. “He infiltrated the Embassy in Skyrim! Anyone with half a brain can see that the mer is headed this way next!”

Jorun betrayed no hint of the interest that perked in him on his face. “Really? You’ve been harassing the Dunmer people for years and didn’t think a handful wouldn’t get irritated enough to do something rash? You are talking nonsense, Thalmor. Now get the hell out of my office before I have you escorted out. At sword point.” The lieutenant took a step forward to drive the point home, cracking her knuckles. Ocanlil looked as if he would protest. Actually he looked like he would explode, his face turning a shade of purple that clashed horribly with his gold skin. However, two swords sliding from their scabbards kept him from doing anything other than shake in fury. “I don’t like repeating myself.” Jorun said, his voice tight, “Now leave before I send you back to your brother in a bloody box.”

He didn’t relax fully until after the door slammed and the footsteps faded down the hall. Finally he let out sigh of relief. That had been too close. 

“Sir…he just gave up information, didn’t he?” His lieutenant said slowly, “Things I’m pretty sure the Emissary wanted to stay silent?”

“That he did.” 

“What are you going to do?”

“Right now? Nothing.” Jorun slid his sword back into its scabbard, “Right now, I’m going home.”

“Is it…really the Nerevarine?” Jorun looked sharply over at the younger woman. There was a guarded hope there in her ruby eyes, hidden beneath the roughened exterior of one who had had enough of living under another’s thumb. She was ready to believe him. She was desperately hoping that the fabled hero from her childhood stories was coming, that he was going to swoop in and save them all. 

“Listen to me.” Jorun said carefully, “Change is coming, but change, especially to our nation, is often bloody and violent. We need to be ready because this time, we need that change to be in our favor.”

“Sir?”

“Go home. As for all this? It never happened.”

The confused lieutenant left and Jorun leaned back against his desk. So, he was right after all; Nevano was on his way. Oh he knew it was Nevano. He had known since the Thalmor first claimed to have Hopesfire and Trueflame. He was quite willing to bet Nevano went on a war path to get his beloved swords back. No one believed him but he knew Nevano well enough to recognize the signs. Whether by accident or design, the mer was coming back. A small smile played on the old mer’s lips. While he knew that the champion’s return was going to mean conflict, and a bloody one at that, he couldn’t wait to see his old friend again. Jorun pushed off his desk and left his office, intending to go home. His wife would be thrilled to hear this.

XxXxXx

Solstheim, Morrowind

Hirstaang Forest. Well, it used to be a forest. Nevano considered the sheer rock cliffs as he walked along the shore. He was pretty certain those weren’t quite so…formidable the last time he ran along this route. They must have been forcibly carved after being blasted by a volcanic eruption. He also remembered this being a green forest of pine trees carpeted with snow and ice. It was still rather chilly with the damp ocean wind chilling him to the bone, but the ground was covered in ash instead of fresh scented pine needles. The trees had been severely damaged from the volcanic blast. Even now, after a few centuries, they still hadn’t recovered fully. Only a few stubborn trees still stood, more petrified than actual living wood. Scathecraw and trama root, plants that grew really well in ashy soil, replaced the Belladonna and holly bushes that once grew in abundance all over the place. Nevano was still trying to mentally grasp how one event had changed a world centuries after the fact. One small act, a man trying to save his lover, had altered the face of Morrowind, of Tamriel, forever. 

A shout interrupted Nevano’s musings over the scenery. He held still a moment, ears twitching as he tried to pinpoint where the shout came from. Smell was useless, as the wind didn’t let up, continually assaulting his nose with the scent of salt and ash. Another shout, this time accompanied by the metallic clang of weapons, echoed from down the beach. Nevano started running up the hill, struggling a little as his feet sank awkwardly into the sand. He popped Hopesfire and Trueflame in their scabbards, loosening them but not drawing them just yet. He crested the hill and the scene below made his heart leap into his throat. 

Three monsters were attacking what looked to be a Raven Rock guard, if the bonemold armor was anything to go by. Another guard already lay dead close to the ruined remains of a house, his armor cracked like a eggshell. That was alarming right there. Bonemold was an impressively strong material and highly prized by the Redoran. It was the monsters, though, that unnerved him. They were massive, as misshapen as a corprus beast, covered in glowing hot ash. Ash vampires? What would ash vampires be doing here? HOW could there be ash vampires here? He drew his swords finally, but didn’t give the command for them to ignite. Against something already on fire the point was moot. If they were ash vampires, they were going to quickly become dead vampires. He couldn’t allow any sort of ash beast like this to live.

The guard they were fighting was barely fending them off; he was flanked and being pushed back, putting him more and more on the defensive and taking away any chance of him being able to get a strike in to save himself. Nevano ran down the hill; he could see that the guard was rapidly running out of energy to fend off all three. The only reason he was still alive was because he had a double handed axe like Gunjar; the longer reach keeping the creatures with their much shorter weapons just out of reach. However it was merely a matter of time before he was overwhelmed. Nevano ran faster, but he wasn’t fast enough. Almost in slow motion he watched the guard block a strike from the creature on the far right, leaving his left flank completely bare. The monster closest took full advantage and struck. For a moment the whole world narrowed down to that ashen blade striking against bonemold plating. Nevano had a fleeting hope that the armor would hold but then it seemed to shake. Hairline fractures appeared around the point of impact and then with a CRACK that echoed in Nevano’s ears, the armor gave way. Blood spurted as the flesh beneath split. The only reason why the guard’s entire flank wasn’t sliced completely through was a small buckle that caught the ash monster’s blade and held it there. 

The world snapped back to full speed. Nevano launched himself at the nearest monster, both swords burying themselves deep into the creature’s chest. With a bellowing roar, it disintegrated beneath Nevano, crumbling into a pile of ash. Nevano frowned. No ash vampire disintegrated like that. There was no time to wonder though. The guard had fallen to the ground, his armor stained red. Nevano was actually glad for that. He had the two remaining creatures’ full attention and he didn’t have to worry about the injured guard. All he needed was for the mer to stay down while he felt with his foes. Nevano crouched into a ready position, his twin blades shining in the weak light filtering through the smoky air, inviting the ash monsters to come at him. 

Come at him they did. 

They came with a roar that made Nevano grin, adrenaline pumping through his veins in anticipation of a good fight. He caught both smoldering weapons with each sword at the same time as they were thrust at him. He twisted his wrists, the sword blades spiraling around and easily slicing through the seething flesh. The blades, which had resumed their path towards his chest when his flipped his swords, withdrew quickly as the beasts recoiled before their hands were severed completely from their limbs. Nevano pressed his advantage, whipping both swords at their chests. It wasn’t a deep strike, he didn’t intend for it to be, but it was enough to cause them both to flinch. The cuts burned a fiery red at the edges. Instead of blood running from the unbraided flesh, ash spilled out like flour from a sack. Nevano wrinkled his nose. That wasn’t nearly as satisfying as hot blood coating his weapons and filling the air with a coppery tang.

It was time to finish this. In a move that mirrored the beasts opening attack, Nevano thrust both swords deep into the monster’s chests. He twisted the blades, pouring his frustration and anger into the command to ignite. Truefire and Hopesflame veritably exploded; the sudden over-whelming heat rapidly expanded the ash in the things’ chest, causing an eruption like a volcano. The monsters never even got a chance to bellow before they melted into dust, leaving Nevano standing there, panting, both swords held midair. He took a moment to regain his breath before sheathing the twin swords and going to the guard’s side as he pushed himself to his elbows.

“Thanks…I wasn’t sure I’d make it off this farm alive. I wish I could say the same for my man here.” Nevano crouched next to the guard, though at his words he just identified himself as the missing captain that Geldis spoke of. He had one hand clapped to the cracked armor on his ruined flank, blood oozing from between his fingers. Not a mortal wound, fortunately, but certainly plenty debilitating. He was going to have a fun walk back to Raven Rock with that injury.

“I almost could have said the same for the both of you.” Nevano started digging through his pack, looking for anything to help with that wound a little. “What were those things?”

“Some of the Redoran Guard have taken to calling them ‘ash spawn’.” The captain said flatly, “Me? I don’t care what they’re called…all I know is they’re a danger to Raven Rock and they need to be stopped.”

“Ash spawn?” Nevano produced a small healing potion. He was far more undersupplied than he thought, but he HAD remembered to re-stock all his arrows at least, “What the hell is an ash spawn?”

“No one knows really. Superstitious folk say they’re risen forms of those that died long ago, but I’m not so certain. They started attacking the Bulwark a few weeks ago. My men were able to kill them, but they keep coming back.” The captain gratefully accepted the healing potion. It wouldn’t do much other than slow the blood flow and dull the pain slightly but it would suffice until he could get back to Raven Rock, “We’ve had two other assaults on the Bulwark at different spots on the wall. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s almost like they’re becoming more organized and probing it for weaknesses.”

Nevano sat back on his heels, frowning, “You suppose there’s a motive to the attacks?”

“Exactly. Something has to be directing them against us and we need to find out who, or what it is.”

“How did that bring you to this old farm?” Nevano asked. If he didn’t know any better he would have said talking to this mer was like talking to Jorun; super suspicious, slightly paranoid, and poking around in places where answers seemed the least likely to be found…but was always right. He felt a pang of guilt twist his stomach; he hadn’t thought about Jorun in a long time. He wondered how he was doing, if he was still alive. Maybe he should try to find him after he was done on Solstheim. 

“I was going to search for clues that might lead me to wherever they’re coming from. I know it isn’t the best place to start, but we know they’ve been coming from this direction.”

“I’d be glad to lend you a hand.” Nevano found himself saying. He stopped and blinked. Did he really just volunteer himself like that? It had to be because this guard reminded him of Jorun. Yeah, that was it. 

“Good, I can use all the help I can get. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving Raven Rock behind, and I’d hate to lose anymore Redoran Guard.”

“Very well, where do I begin?” Nevano saw right through that double meaning; no one cared if the outlander got himself killed. Far from being offended by it, Nevano enjoyed the challenge. That and he wanted to see the look on the captain’s face when he waltzed back into town far faster than any of the Redoran Guard could have ever hoped to complete this particular quest. 

“We were searching the farm when the ash spawn ambushed us. Have a look around and see if you can turn up something useful.” The captain grunted as he forced himself to his feet, leaning against the weathered timbers to steady himself. 

Nevano kept his mouth shut and let the mer keep his dignity as he began poking around at the piles of ashes. Most of the ashes, still warm to the touch, held a few bits of rubble, bits of debris that he didn’t want to think too much about, but one held a surprisingly intact letter. How the damn thing didn’t burn was beyond him but he had seen stranger things. He sat back on his heels and looked it over.

“Find something?”

“Yeah…” Nevano unfolded it and read it out loud, “ ‘Raven Rock Stronghold, My calls for unconditional surrender of your forces and immediate cessation of all hostilities has been ignored numerous times. I therefore have no choice but to assume your purpose on Solstheim is hostile, and to treat Raven Rock as an enemy of the Empire. I warn you, any attempt to breach Fort Frostmoth will be met with an equal level of aggression. I will do everything in my power to wipe you and your forces off the face of Tamriel. There will be no further communication between us. General Falx Carius, Garrison Commander, Fort Frostmoth.’ ” 

“That’s…impossible.” The captain limped over, taking the note from Nevano’s suddenly nerveless hands, “General Falx Carius is indeed the garrison commander but…Fort Frostmoth was destroyed over 200 years ago. The general was killed when Red Mountain leveled the place. It’s just a pile of rubble now.” 

Nevano pressed his lips into a hard line. He knew that. He remembered Carius very well. They foiled the hunt together…or rather, Nevano saved him so that he could go back to worrying over contraband in his fort. Even if he DID survive Red Mountain destroying the fort, his human lifespan would not allow him to survive this long. Something was seriously wrong here.

“I think you might be on to something that something is behind those attacks…but I don’t think it’s Carius.” Nevano said slowly, “Looks like Frostmoth is the place to go investigate. Can you make it back to Raven Rock ok?”

“You’re going alone?” The captain asked incredulously, ignoring his question, “Are you crazy?”

“I’ve been called that before.” Nevano grinned, “I usually work alone, don’t worry about that. The fort is not even a day’s travel east right? I’ll have something before too long.”

“I…thank you, stranger.” Veleth gave him an odd look, head tilted to the side, “Don’t get yourself killed.”

“Haven’t gotten killed yet! And I’ve been doing this for a long time.” Nevano said with a cocky grin, tugging his hood back over his face. He looked up and there, through the petrified trees, he could see Red Mountain. He tensed a little, watching the smoke rise above the trees high into the sky like a signal. A giant, smoking, ominous signal. He ignored the look the captain was giving him, tugged his hood down a little lower and set off through the sand, towards the mountain, for she was guiding the way. 

XxXxXx 

Fort Frostmoth had been one of the larger of the Imperial garrisons that dotted Morrowind back in the third era, certainly one of the more elaborate ones. It had to be though. It didn’t house just Imperial guard, it also housed anyone adventurous, or stupid enough, to pay a visit to Solstheim, including curious citizens and dignitaries. Nevano remembered it being a stern stone mass on the outside but the interior had been warm and the smell of the pinewood used in the fires gave the fort a wonderful fresh smell that Nevano found he couldn’t get enough of. 

Now it was a mere husk of its former glory. The injured guard hadn’t been kidding when he said the mountain had leveled the place. The mighty curtain wall had been smashed to bits, leaving only a few stubborn bits clinging to ruined turrets still standing. A few spots had a handful of bricks still upright but it was more held up by ash than by any of the original support. The main hall he could see still stood though it had sunk deep into the ash..or had the ash piled up around it? It was hard to really tell. Nevano glanced across the sea to the south where Red Mountain was clearly visible, moodily spewing smoke. He didn’t realize that the mountain had hated Solstheim that badly. 

However, he couldn’t just walk into Fort Frostmoth and start looking around. Not with all the ash spawn walking all over the place. He counted two up in the ruined turrets, one down by the splintered jetty and one by the entrance to the courtyard. He was willing to bet there was another two or three in the courtyard itself. Even if there weren’t anymore he couldn’t see, the four alone would be a bit much for him. He needed to thin the herd a bit. 

He slid Bonebiter off his back, knocking an arrow to the string. He was fairly certain he could take out the ash spawn on the jetty without alerting the others. He sincerely doubted that these things had a high level of intelligence in and of themselves, instead thinking more of a hive mentality. Either way, he didn’t think they would notice him taking out this one. He drew the string to his cheek, took careful aim and let the arrow fly. It whistled through the air, straight and true and slammed into the ash spawn’s back. Immediately the ash flared red as it crumpled in on itself and the ash spawn collapsed into a pile. One down. 

He crept forward, up the remains of the stairs, holding Bonebiter tight in his hands. He knew the ash spawn were just above him but he couldn’t even see them yet. At the very top of the stairs he quickly fired off an arrow at the ash spawn on top the turret to his right, bringing the creature down as Bonebiter’s power shredded the thick spine keeping the creature upright. He turned back to the arch way that led to the courtyard and nearly fell backwards down the steps as an ash spawn poked its head up from on top of it. Azura alive, he hadn’t seen that one! Annoyed at both himself for his carelessness and at the creature for being somewhat crafty, he sent an arrow straight into its face.

As soon as he entered the courtyard a voice bellowed out from the fort, “Men, an invader has entered the fort! Prepare yourselves for an ambush!” Nevano gulped as several ash spawn suddenly climbed up out of the ground like some sort of ashy spiders from hell. He tossed Bonebiter aside, seeing as how he had hopelessly lost the element of surprise and drew Hopesfire and Trueflame. As before, he didn’t bother igniting them. These things were already on fire. Nevano didn’t want to drain the two swords on something that would resist them. 

The first spawn that came at him was slightly unprepared. It was still forming, its skin hadn’t yet formed the hardened exterior of cooled molten…whatever comprised of the thing’s skin, leaving it very vulnerable. A few quick swipes quickly returned it to the earth. The other two were fully formed and wholly focused on carving up the intruding dark elf. Fully formed and…massive. 

“Shit…” Nevano muttered. He was strong, but there was no way he could withstand more than a few blocks from a single spawn before he was over-powered. There was no way he could fend off both at the same time. Quickly he planned out his course and took off at a run, angling slightly to the side, up an ash dune. It gave him just enough height to jump up and over their heads, landing lightly behind them and quickly slicing through the spine of the closest one before it could turn around. He thrust towards the final spawn but Hopesflame was knocked from his grasp as the creature spun around and swiped at him with a bellow. Desperately he parried with Trueflame, feeling the jarring jolt of the impact reverberate through his entire arm and down his spine. Trueflame could hold up against more hits but his body sure wasn’t going to! Then an idea came to him. A risky, stupid idea and if he didn’t judge it just right, he was going to get skewered. Modryn…would hate the idea with a burning passion. All the more reason to do it

He ducked under the next swing and threw himself at the spawn, almost like a girl into the arm’s over her lover…except instead of a loving embrace, Trueflame was thrust upwards into the chest cavity where a heart should be. Oddly enough, Nevano thought he felt Truefire strike against something and thought he saw a small spark flare up. It lasted a mere instant though as he kept on falling, the ash spawn rapidly disintegrating beneath him. As the ground rushed up to meet him, Nevano saw the fatal flaw in his plan; there was nothing between him and Truefire. More than a little alarmed he twisted mid-air, trying to keep from slicing his torso open on his own sword. He landed in a twisted heap, ribs first, the air forced from his lungs. He groaned as the ache spread from his ribs throughout his entire upper body. His body might have been frozen at a really young age but that didn’t stop him from feeling over 200 years worth of injuries after a landing like that!

“Fort Frostmoth will never fall! Long live the Empire!”

“Shut the hell up.” Nevano muttered to himself as he slowly picked himself up and trudged over to retrieve Bonebiter. This was turning out to be more a pain in the arse than he initially thought. He crossed the courtyard, trying not to look around too much. It was too painful. He had once stirred up trouble by starting a snowball fight between the guards, causing Carius to come bellowing out of the fort…and got nailed in the face with a snowball. Nevano had never admitted to being the one that threw it. Now the place was engulfed in ash, the training dummies barely poking up through like men drowning in water, the forge completely obliterated, only the end of a work bench, splintered and useless, broke through. Nevano went straight up to the door that lead to Carius’ office and nearly yanked his shoulder out of socket when it didn’t budge. Cursing under his breath, he checked to make sure the door hadn’t swelled shut in its frame but there was plenty of clearance. The door was simply locked. 

“Great…going to the long way…” He muttered, going over to the main hall door. He hesitated at the door, hearing a low ominous rumble. “This damn place better not collapse on me or that captain and I WILL have a talk when I dig myself out…”

Nevano’s mood didn’t improve in the slightest bit when the first thing that happened when he walked into Fort Frostmoth was another ash spawn rising up right in front of him. The damn things popped out of nowhere worse than draugr! He thrust Trueflame down through its chest before it finished rising, sending it back into a harmless pile of ash. Then stars exploded in his vision as something slammed into him, throwing him clean across the entry hall and into the stone wall. He slid down, dazed, as ash and dust rained down on his head. It took several long moments for his vision to clear and another moment to extract himself from the wall. Belatedly he realized that nothing came after him. He blinked…then saw Truefire sticking up proudly from a pile of ash. One corner of his mouth twitched up as he retrieved his loyal blade. 

Out of curiosity, he took the ladder up onto the tower and took a moment to enjoy the fresh air, needing a moment to regain his senses before he went back in. He grinned when he saw a herd of Netch floating around in a clearing but it faded as he looked off to the east. A giant mushroom rose on the horizon. A…Telvanni mushroom? Huh…he’d have to ask about that when he got back to Raven Rock. He felt pretty certain the Redoran would be keeping a watchful eye on any Telvanni that shared their spit of an island. He gave one last scan below to the fort to make sure he hadn’t missed any ash spawn since he was pretty certain he was NOT going to be paying that close attention when he staggered out of here. With one last glance back at the horizon, Nevano reluctantly went back in.

Hurriedly, he crossed back through the fort, taking great care not to touch anything. He didn’t want to upset anything, out of respect to the dead, wanting to keep this memorial to the brave soldiers assigned to the worst garrison in the Morrowind as intact as possible. In all reality, he had probably talked to the people that were now buried in the ash under his feet at some point. It was all very symbolic. He should be dead, dead many times over. Yet still he lived. Gunjar seemed to think that Azura was leading him around by the nose again but he honestly didn’t know. Maybe she was. Maybe there really was something large brewing under the surface he couldn’t quite see yet. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about that just yet. 

At the bottom of the staircase, Nevano’s sharp ears picked up a now familiar sound. The ash spawn made a wheezing panting noise, almost like an old dog on a hot day. Each footstep they took made a hissing noise as burning ash rearranged itself on the ground. He picked up two sets of footsteps and, not wanting to make the same mistake twice, fired two arrows at the same time around the corner. Shooting two arrows at once was tricky. It required a lot more finger strength and concentration, not to mention the perfect arrangement of targets. He got lucky and the sizzling noise of ash spawn collapsing into piles made him smile. 

He went down another stairwell and nearly bit his tongue when he saw all the coffins. He tensed and pulled the twin swords out, hurrying past them. He didn’t want to think about the coffins. He desperately didn’t want to think about WHO was in those coffins. Zeno Faustus, the blacksmith who knew everything but denied knowing anything. Raccan, the Redguard with whom he had started the infamous snowball fight. Vilbia Herennia who tried to bust him for some infraction or another (he couldn’t remember) until he spent the night with her and convinced her to think of….other things. They could be in those coffins. People who were alive and vibrant in his memories now cold, dusty skeletons in a wooden box. He couldn’t handle the thought. He was so focused on ignoring the coffins that he practically ran into a spawn guarding the short hall, startling them both. The ash spawn wheezed and took a step back. Nevano didn’t hesitate; he arced both swords up into its abdomen, disintegrating it. 

He entered the room the spawn was guarding. Now the coffins lining the halls outside made sense. This room was a tomb. The coffins outside had been waiting for a ship to take the remains to their respective homelands but Red Mountain erupting at disrupted that. This room was the actual tomb for those who didn’t believe in a ground burial. Offerings and chests of belongings sat with the coffins. However it had been disturbed. Several of the coffins had been cracked open and stacked in the center of the room, acting as a table. On that table, along with alchemical ingredients and several embalming tools, he found a worn leather journal. Carefully avoiding the tools, he picked up the journal and flipped it open. The more he read, the more he felt sick to his stomach. He threw it to the ground, breathing hard. Necromancy. Of course it was…he had heard Carius’ voice but he had refused to BELIEVE it at the time…but to finally have the truth was more difficult to swallow than he thought.

He picked up the journal again and flipped it over, looking for a name or something to identify the owner. There, stamped on the inside cover were tiny daedric letters that spelled out a name: Ildari Sarothril. Quaking in anger, Nevano shoved the journal in his pack, the name burned in his memory. This was someone he planned on finding and stopping once and for all. A key sat on the coffins next to where the journal had sat. He grabbed it and made his way back up the stairs, more than a little relieved to be leaving the coffins behind to their eternal rest. Maybe he should find a way to seal Fort Frostmoth after all was said and done. For right now, though, he needed to put Carius back at peace. 

XxXxXx


	19. Revelations

Chapter 18

Revelations

XxXxXx

Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim – Sun’s Height 4E 201

Nevano spent a long time leaning against the doorframe of the old offices, studying the room. He could see General Falx Carius in the back of the room. Even though he already knew that Carius was reanimated and was mentally prepared for it, it was still curiously painful to see the man he only remembered as alive alternating from standing perfectly still and staring at nothing with vacant eyes to agitatedly pacing around with an awkward gait. Nevano’s biggest problem right now was how he was going to go about doing it. 

Nevano sighed and looked down at his swords. They were capable of anything. Razor sharp edges that never seemed to dull, strong hilts that didn’t sport a single scratch despite the hundreds and hundreds of years of bloody conflict and powerful enchantments that unwaveringly ignited at the command of their true wielder every time he called. Yet however powerful the swords were, they were just swords. In reality they were only as powerful as the skill of their wielder. Nevano was skilled, yes. He had over 200 years worth of experience, something not even the most skilled human warrior could ever think of boasting. He knew he had the skill but…he felt like he was killing his own past, one small thing at a time. Did he have the skill, nay, the fortitude to do this? 

“I’m not killing him.” Nevano muttered to himself through clenched teeth, “I’m putting him back at rest. This is not natural. I’m fixing a terrible, horrible mistake.”

He dropped his pack off his back and took his cloak and the lenses off. Carefully he piled them against the wall. He wanted to be completely unencumbered for this fight. The ash spawn were a tough enough fight as undead beings but Carius had been an impressive warrior in his day. Nevano didn’t want to take chances on Carius hopped up on the same unnatural strength as the ash spawn, especially since he could see the glint of the cudgel he had seen Carius wield long ago. It was a brutal weapon, designed more to crush than to slice. Cut flesh was one thing but crushed bones were completely another. There was no way he could hobble back to Raven Rock with crushed bones.

Realizing that he was stalling, Nevano rolled his shoulders and strode in, not bothering to be stealthy. Carius looked over and their eyes met across the room. Instantly Nevano felt more at ease with the idea of killing Carius. Carius’ eyes were completely blank. There was no recognition in there, no emotion, no spark, no life. They were as blank as if they had been chips of glass. Even when his face twisted into a snarl, no emotion met his eyes. This wasn’t Carius. It was his body, but Carius himself was long gone.

“I’m so sorry, Captain…though I think you made General before you died.” Nevano said out loud to the body as it lurched toward him, “I promise to make this as fast as I can so you can go back to your eternal rest.” 

Nevano ducked the first swing of the powerful cudgel, wincing as it crashed against one of the pillars, showering him in bits of pulverized stone. He gulped; one hit of that and he was dead. He could envision his bones snapping just as easily and the shower of dust as a shower of blood. He attempted to snap a quick strike into Carius’ arm while his weapon was still embedded in the stone, trying to incapacitate him a little but Carius was already starting his next swing, his unnatural strength giving him almost instant recovery from recoil. 

“Vith, vith, VITH!” Nevano dove into a roll as the cudgel arced through the air right where he had been. “Dammit, Carius, I want to HELP you!”

“You are with Raven Rock!” Carius said almost mechanically, advancing on Nevano, “Raven Rock has declared war and must be destroyed!”

Nevano could only dodge. Carius was not tiring, not slowing in the slightest, despite the heavy weapon. There was simply no opening for Nevano to get a single strike in. He was in deep trouble. So he did the only thing he could think of; he talked. 

“Can you remember way long ago? You asked me to help find out what happened with the alcohol shipments that affected moral in your fort?” Nevano shouted as he ran behind a pillar, “It was the priest remember? Nuncius! It’s always the priests…they always tell you how to live your life without considering the consequences of the hardships of a soldiers life! Your soldiers began to hate you for it but were much happier once they got their booze back.”

“My soldiers will tear you apart!”

“They CAN’T! Red Mountain KILLED THEM!” Nevano scrambled away from another hit. He was starting to run out of places to run to. This room wasn’t very big. “Remember you asked me to find the smugglers? By Azura Carius you had a lot of problems around this fort. I helped stop that remember?”

“Red…Mountain…” Carius hesitated the barest of moments, just enough to allow Nevano to get to safety.

“Yes! It erupted. It destroyed Fort Frostmoth.” Nevano said desperately, “I couldn’t save Fort Frostmoth…not like I did when the werewolves attacked. Remember? You were taken while I was helping with the smuggling issue. After I found you we teamed up and killed a bunch of werewolves.” Nevano tripped over a rock and fell flat on his back. Before he could scramble to his feet the undead general was upon him. The cudgel began its swing towards his head. Nevano squeezed his eyes shut and gave one last plea. “Dammit I was the one who hit you in the face with the snowball!”

The hit never came. Slowly, Nevano opened his eyes to see Carius standing over him, the barest flickers of recognition in his eyes. “Snowball…werewolves…Hircine…”

“Yes YES!” Nevano gingerly moved away from the path of the cudgel, getting to his feet, “We stopped Hircine’s hunt. We stopped that and destroyed an entire glacier on the way.”

“You…I…I remember…” Carius stumbled, “Please stop me. STOP THIS!”

“I will. I promise I will avenge this atrocity.” Nevano brought up Hopesfire and Trueflame, “Rest in peace, sir.” 

Before the moment could pass, Nevano struck cleanly with both Truefire and Hopesflame, severing Carius’ head from his body. The last thing Nevano saw before his swords struck was the grateful look on Carius’ face before his head rolled across the ground. The body stood upright for a few moments before slowly crumpling to the ground. True to its undead state, no blood sprayed as would normally happen in a beheading. Instead old congealed blood oozed from the stump. 

“I’m going to make sure this never happens to you again.” Nevano said, dragging the body to the center of the room and putting the head back with its body, “I know you don’t necessarily like Dunmer and I know you had misgivings about Raven Rock but maybe this final act will put your soul to rest once and for all.” 

He found several old pieces of wood furniture and broke them into pieces. With those pieces he made a pyre over the body of the general. “It’s not a Imperial tradition, but I never understood why you would want to have a whole body laying around anyway. You just turn to dust eventually. When you’re dust, no one can mess with you like this. Hopefully whatever god you prayed to understands but you Imperials always go on about how forgiving the aedra are. Good bye Carius.” Nevano thrust the lit Truefire into the kindling and stepped back as the old dry wood immediately ignited. He grabbed the rest of his gear and left as the powerful heat began to disintegrate the mortar holding the room together. 

As Nevano walked away, the wind blowing ash and sand in his face, Fort Frostmoth collapsed. 

XxXxXx

Raven Rock, Solstheim 

Several days after returning to Raven Rock Captain Veleth found himself standing in front of the councilor, trying his hardest not to favor his left side. That ash spawn had gotten a good hit through his armor and right over his old scar, as if he didn’t hurt enough there to begin with. It wasn’t a bad wound, fortunately, but it still stung enough to be suitably annoying. Even more annoying was that his armor had gotten heavily damaged. Mallory had given him a look when hr brought it to him to be repaired. It hadn’t improved his mood any. 

“So this stranger decided to just…go clear out Fort Frostmoth? On his own?” Councilor Morvayn had to repeat it because it sounded so utterly absurd. When repeated out loud like that, Veleth had to admit it really did sound incredibly strange even though it felt like the right thing to do at the time. “Adril, you said he and a Nord came in on Gjalund’s boat earlier? Did either of you get their names?”

“I…did not.” Adril blinked in surprise. Veleth was surprised too. Adril was usually far more thorough than that. Most visitors that came through were usually subjected to a rather in-depth scrutinizing from the second councilor. 

“I only met the Dunmer and the thought never crossed my mind at the time to get his name.” Veleth admitted. At the time he was more grateful to make out of that tight spot alive than to interrogate a helpful stranger. Not an acceptable excuse, of course, but…something about that stranger. He had just trusted the mer enough to not care about introductions. 

“If this stranger makes it back alive, I want at least one of you to get his name.” Councilor Morvayn seemed only a little annoyed…but also rather unsurprised. That was definitely very curious. Did he know something they didn’t?

“Of course, Lleril.” Adril said. 

Veleth stayed quiet, his mind again turning over his encounter with the strange mer. The kid was young, incredibly young. First glance impression was that he hadn’t even reached his majority yet. However his demeanor spoke of someone with a lifetime of experience. He had been calm, efficient and more than a little skilled. His gear certainly spoke of someone who had been through a lot. The armor was well-worn to him, not something brand new that he obviously bought just to appear like a fighter. Veleth hadn’t seen much of the swords. Those had been a blur of sharp metal then hidden away under a dark cloak. Then the kid had grinned at him, over-grown ridge of dark red hair falling over his eyes that he had covered with lenses torn from a netch leather helmet and…Veleth felt he should know him. There was a glimmer of familiarity sparking in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite place. Something about that grin, mischievous and lopsided, that was just so frustratingly familiar. 

“Good. Now, Adril, you said a Nord also came on the ship?”

“Yes, they seemed to be traveling together though, going by Veleth’s account, they split up. They certainly seemed on friendly terms with one another. Geldis said they got a drink together before heading out and kept the whole place entertained.”

“Another mystery.” Morvayn sighed, “Veleth? Anything to add? Did the mer say anything about his travel companion?”

“No. He never mentioned it. But I…I swear I know him.” Veleth said slowly, “I couldn’t see his eyes so I can’t be sure, but I thought I recognized him from somewhere. Odd thing, he saw Red Mountain in the distance and it seemed to affect him but he looked far too young to have lived through the Red Year. He didn’t say anything but the look he gave it was like someone seeing an old enemy.”

“That’s…certainly odd.” Morvayn said, frowning, “Where would you know him from?”

“I can’t quite place him. He’s too young for me to have met him back when I was in the militia and certainly I don’t remember him visiting Raven Rock before. But he’s talented with a sword. He fought off those ash spawn with little effort so he’s been fighting somewhere.”

Morvayn sighed, “Well, if he’s had any measure of success then he should be making his way back here any moment now. I would like to meet this mer so when you see him, bring him to me.”

Veleth nodded respectfully and headed back out, only a slight hitch in his step. This mystery was going to drive him crazy until that kid came back, if he came back. 

XxXxXx 

Nevano half stumbled back into Raven Rock a day later, tired and gritty with sand and ash. His hood was thrown back but he kept the lenses on to protect his eyes from the ash. His red hair wasn’t in his face, which made him suspect that it was even messier than usual, standing in all directions, stiff with ash and sweat. Judging by the looks the guards on duty at the gates were giving him, it was even more impressive than he thought. That or some sort of rumor was making the rounds around town. Why did he strongly suspect the latter?

He found the captain patrolling the town and he was pleased to note that he wasn’t showing the slightest bit that he had been injured. Tough mer. It was still driving Nevano crazy that he thought he recognized the man from somewhere and it wasn’t helping that his mind kept jumping to Jorun. Wait…Jorun had a son. By Azura why couldn’t he remember that kid’s name? He’d be…around this captain’s age by now wouldn’t he? 

As he was doing some hasty math in his mind, the captain in question noticed him and walked over. He definitely seemed pleased to see him but Nevano could read the surprise in his eyes from across the town center. Nevano held his smirk in check. Everyone underestimated him. No one thought a short, smart-mouthed Dunmer was worth much. “Before you ask, the ash spawn are taken care of. They won’t be coming back to Raven Rock.”

The captain gave him a grim smile, “Excellent! Was it really Carius?”

Nevano scowled, “Someone was playing necromancer in that fort. It was really Carius…undead and very confused. He’s back to his well-deserved rest. They won’t be coming back to Raven Rock but this whole thing isn’t over yet. I’ll hunt down this person so that’s it’ll be over with once and for all. It’ll take some time though. Not entirely certain where to start.”

The captain shook his head with a sigh, “That’s really a shame. Thank you for helping. I know you didn’t have to, nor do you have to go after the Necromancer.”

“I help people.” Nevano answered honestly, “It’s what I do. I once did it for a living…now things like this seem to find me.” 

“I never got your name earlier…”

“That’s because I didn’t give it.” Nevano grinned, “But then, neither did you. Don’t think you were really thinking about it, taking a smoldering ash sword to the side and all.”

“Not the worst injury I’ve ever gotten…” The captain conceded, “Anyway, since I feel like being polite, I’m…” the captain trailed off as two mer joined them, “Adril…”

Nevano followed his gaze. He quickly recognized Second Councilor Adril Arano from when he had first arrived from Gunjar. However, unlike last time when the serious mer’s attention was on Gunjar, he was fully focused on Nevano. The other was a well-dressed woman who was walking close enough to the councilor that Nevano guessed she must be Adril’s wife. She was very pretty but there was a certain sense of stress and strain about her, pulling at her features. If anything it only heightened her beauty, reminding Nevano of a statue of a goddess that withstood years and years of the elements. Despite the weariness in her eyes she graced Nevano with a warm smile that made him instantly trust her more than her hard-faced husband. 

“Ah, Captain, I see you’ve found our new friend here.” The second councilor looked hard at Nevano, “I believe we met on the boat arriving from Skyrim.”

“Yes, we both were thinking about how a quick toss in the bay might have done wonders teaching my loud-mouthed friend the subtle art of speaking without being as brash as a bristleback in a thorn patch.” Nevano smirked, enjoying seeing the taken-aback look on Adril’s face at his own reckless manner and the grin on the Captain’s face that was quickly hidden when he ducked his head. Was that a glimmer of a sense of humor? Or did he simply not particularly like the councilor. Nevano filed that bit of information away for later.

“We were hoping to catch your name.” To his credit, Adril recovered quickly. 

“Well, we were in the middle of introductions when you came along.” Nevano said, not willing to give an inch. The game was on in full force. Actually it had been on the moment they had set eyes on each other at the docks. They were simply off the sidelines now. 

“Usually it’s polite that the stranger introduce himself first.”

“Adril!” the woman admonished, interrupting the game, “He just went to that ruined fort by himself. The poor boy deserves more than this outlaw’s greeting. I’m sorry, I’m Cindiri Arano, Adril’s wife. Thank you for taking care of those ash spawn for us.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sera.” Immediately Nevano put on his best politeness, bowing his head a little. Nevano knew the sudden shift in manners would infuriate the councilor, keeping the game going despite the interruption, “It was little trouble.”

“So you DO have manners?”

“Adril!” His wife scolded for the second time, “Lleril wanted to meet him remember? Enough of this and let’s go indoors.”

“Ah yes…this way.” Nevano followed the councilor; a bit pleased to notice the captain went as well. He wasn’t exactly worried he was walking into a den of wolves but having someone he had a bit or a rapport with, however recent, was a bit of a reassurance. He didn’t feel quite like a prisoner this way. 

Like with everyone else on this island, Lleril Morvayn had a tired, wary look that pulled at his features. However, unlike the others, Nevano rather expected to see that mask on the person in charge. Running a colony was no easy task, especially in a land that was less than hospitable. Underneath the tired stress, Nevano recognized Morvayn. Brara Morvayn’s features shone through clearly on her son. Oh he’d ask later, but he was fairly certain that the toddler he had seen in the Redoran Council Hall was indeed the man who was now scrutinizing him carefully.

“Interesting choice in headwear there.” 

“I was in Skyrim and got a case of something called “snow-blindness”. Just when I thought snow couldn’t get any worse.” Nevano grinned. Morvayn was either the smartest councilor he had ever met or the dumbest. He was definitely the most interesting. He had chosen to start their conversation with a disarming observation, instead of an accusation. It was intended to lower defenses and encourage trust. It worked, a little, but Nevano had delt with the likes of Helseth and Vivec. He would never fully lower his defenses ever again, but he appreciated the attempt. 

“Well, you certainly have been causing quite the stir since you arrived here.” Morvayn said, his tone suggesting that that stir wasn’t a bad thing, “I was hoping to meet the man so willing to go diving headfirst into Fort Frostmoth by himself.”

“I was TRYING to get him to introduce himself…” Adril said huffily. 

“I’m not some infamous outlaw if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Nevano interrupted, nodded his head at the captain, “Fairly certain your suspicious captain here would have sniffed THAT out and hung me from that massive wall before I ever made it into town.”

“One would think you were as mysterious as the Nerevarine. I’d accuse you of that if it wasn’t known that he went to Akavir and hasn’t been heard of since.” Morvayn said, causing the other three mer in the room to give him a slightly askance look. 

“Akavir?” Nevano tried his best to keep the absolute astonishment out of his voice. Akavir? Who got THAT idea? 

“So you are as ignorant on history as you are on manners?” Adril said dryly, “The Nerevarine disappeared right before the Oblivion Crisis, on an expedition to Akavir. Despite many rumors and speculations, he’s been gone since.”

“Adril, enough.” Morvayn said quietly, “We are not here to discuss ancient history.”

“No, we were in the middle of introductions…” Nevano said, looking over at the captain “Pick up where we left off, yes?”

“Aye.” The captain inclined his head, “Picking up where we left off…Modyn Veleth, captain of the guard.”

“…Veleth. Now that’s a name I know.” Nevano swallowed hard, more than a little surprised that his voice remained as steady as it was. How popular was the name Veleth? No…it couldn’t be. This man couldn’t be…Jorun’s kid…could it? By Azura, he hadn’t seen the boy since he was very young, young enough to jump on Nevano’s shoulders and cling on, begging for a story of the world outside his home that he could only dream of. Had it really been that long ago?

“You might be thinking of his father, if you’ve been to Blacklight.” Adril was saying, bringing Nevano back to reality with a jolt, “That’s not a mer you’d forget in a hurry.”

“How so?” Nevano noticed that Veleth shot the Second Councilor a dark look but it was ignored. 

“He used to be an Ordinator and then a Buoyant Armiger back in the time of the Nerevarine.” Adril explained. Nevano bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. There was only one mer that fit that description. ONE mer that had been both Ordinator and Armiger. Excitement bubbled up in his chest like a wellspring. His friend was still alive! “Jorun’s now in charge of the guard in Blacklight. Too bad he’s crazier than a Khajiit on moonsugar.”

The warm bubble of excitement instantly died, replaced instead by the cold feeling of dread, “Crazy?”

“Seems to think the Nerevarine will come back one day.” Adril shook his head, “As I said earlier, the Nerevarine went to Akavir. He’s gone. Old man holds on to ancient history like a lifeline.” 

“Ah Jorun…” Nevano grinned, relief spreading through him like balm once again, “Dead on as usual. He’s not crazy. He never was. He was always right and had the conviction, and stubbornness, to stand by it no matter how many things presented otherwise.”

Nevano grinned wider as his audience perked up, seeing the small flicker of hope sparking in the captain’s eye. So that’s what the look of apprehension was. He had lived his whole life listening to people say his father was crazy for simply believing in his friend, probably believing it somewhat himself. Wasn’t he in for a surprise. Curiously enough, Morvayn seemed to be expecting this, even smiling a little. 

“To continue our pleasantry exchange, yet again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain, but we’ve met before. It’s been a very long time. The last time we saw each other your mother, half mockingly, half NOT, threw a vase at my head for teaching you a few choice phrases in Velothi.” Nevano pulled off the lenses that obscured his distinctive eyes, “To refresh your memory, and to be polite, my name is Nevano. And I believe that the second councilor owes you an apology. I can see Jorun right now giving that half smirk that doesn’t quite say ‘I told you so’ but says it just enough for you to feel thoroughly chastised and rather annoyed. I know that look well. How many times that mer gave it to me…he was always right, you know.”

“That’s…impossible!” Adril looked like he had just been slapped in the face by a naked dremora, “The Nerevarine went to Akavir!”

“Yes, so you filled me in. Twice. This one makes three.” Nevano said, crossing his arms over his chest, “But I never went to Akavir. I despise sailing and boats and the sea in general and that’s a LONG boat ride. I’d rather run through a cave full of corprus beasts. Oh wait I’ve done that once already....”

“Adril, Cindiri, Veleth, may I have a moment to speak with Nevano?” Councilor Morvayn said suddenly, surprising everyone, but such was the trust he had with them that they all nodded and did as asked without question. Nevano watched them file out with only a few misgivings. 

“You are truly the Nerevarine?”

“That I am.” Nevano said, “Your mother was Brara correct? I remember her. I didn’t like running errands for all those councilors but for her…I was more than happy to kill those ash vampires. I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner. I’m a little shocked she came all the way to Solstheim though.”

“She saw potential here for the Dunmer, a safe haven from the devastation all around.”

“Well…she wasn’t wrong.” Nevano said, “Solstheim wouldn’t have been my first choice but I can also think of worse places. You didn’t seem the least bit surprised at who I was.”

“Unlike many of my college and fellow Dunmer, I remember meeting the Nerevarine the first time.” Lleril said with a smile, “I remember my mother saying how you really weren’t anything like we thought you should be. An outlaw, a heretic, an exile from Cyrodiil…and, later, a hero. You didn’t look like any of those things. That was the day that I learned that I should never dismiss something based on the expectations of what it should or should not be. Jorun was far more experienced in that than anyone I had ever met and he was rarely wrong. His son has inherited that trait, even if he isn’t aware of it yet. Jorun had been hinting lately that maybe things would be coming to a head soon so I was on the lookout for something unexpected. A mer who dives right into Fort Frostmoth on his own? Definitely unexpected. The fact that my captain of the guard trusted a random stranger to handle a situation as dire as this when he can barely give up control of looking after Raven Rock? After I talked with him the other day, I knew.”

“Unexpected.” Nevano repeated with a wry smile, “That seems to be the word that follows me around everywhere I go. That and finding trouble.” 

“Speaking of trouble.” Nevano stiffened, suspicion flaring up in him like a wild fire. “Morrowind itself is in trouble…”

“And just what, exactly, do you think I can do about it?” Nevano interrupted harshly, eyes hard.

“You’re an icon, a strong individual that the people would happily unite under. You can lead Morrowind.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Do you know why the Empire was so successful for so long?”

“Why?”

“Because the emperors died.” Nevano had had a long time to think about this theory, trudging along dusty roads or slogging through mud on his way to do his so-called heroic deeds, “Do you know why the Tribunal failed?” 

Morvayn raised an eyebrow.

“Because they didn’t die.” Nevano narrowed his eyes, “I refused the exact same thing over 200 years ago because a power such as this is a poison. Even the strongest mortal will one day succumb to it. That’s why I had left. Morrowind needed to learn to run herself and she probably could have had things not, quite literally, exploded. I can’t and won’t lead Morrowind. However…I can’t stand the empire and I hate the Thalmor even more and I do agree that something needs to change. However, I don’t think I’m the mer to help you do it. I’m sorry.”

Nevano turned and left the building before the councilor could say anything more to try to convince him to return to his old job as champion and Nerevarine and Hortator and all that other shit. He didn’t want it. He was NOT a hero. That was Gunjar’s job. That torch had long since been passed and he didn’t want it back again. He was too broken, too jaded to be of any help. As he pulled the door open he heard the councilor sigh.

“I’m sorry too.”

Nevano pulled his hood over his face as he left the manor, starting to regret to his decision to come to Solstheim. He didn’t know what to do about this. Gunjar’s words on the boat came back to haunt him. Did Azura really lead him here, not just to help the people here but as the start of a plan to lead him back to Morrowind? No…he had done his job. He was done. He was not going to be the one to clean up a nation’s problems again. He couldn’t go through that again.

“You look like you want to punch a daedra in the face.”

Nevano looked up sharply to see Veleth standing in front of him, arms crossed, obviously waiting for him. Nevano attempted to smile but was pretty certain it looked more like a grimace, “I have a certain one in mind to be honest.” Then he held up a hand to stop the captain’s next sentence, “I’m more than willing to talk but for gods’ sake over drinks at least. Geldis has some awesome sujamma and I plan on putting a dent in his supply.”

After getting a bottle of sujamma big enough to keep him occupied for a while and choosing a table tucked away in a corner, Nevano finally turned his full attention to the captain, “Well, no wonder I didn’t recognize you right away. Last time I saw you, you were small enough to jump on my shoulders without knocking me over. Now, like everyone else, you’re way taller than me.” Nevano smirked inwardly when the captain twitched a little. Oh so the good captain was more uptight than his father eh? Oh there was fun to be had with junior here. Nevano could NEVER rattle Jorun, no matter how hard he tried. If anything Jorun always got the drop on him. “So, everyone thought your father was crazy hm?”

“I…have to admit I didn’t believe him anymore than anyone else.” Veleth admitted, “When I was younger it was easy to believe. Children’s dreams. But as I grew up it seemed…I don’t know. As Adril said, like clinging to a lifeline. You were gone. No one had seen you and Akavir seemed as good a reason as any to explain that away.”

“I knew I was pretty good at keeping a low profile but I didn’t think I was THAT good.” Nevano took a deep swig of the bottle, “I just kept the damn yellow eyes hidden. No one suspects the short elf.”

Veleth didn’t say anything for a long while, his red eyes boring into the table like they would provide answers. Nevano gave him a moment, fairly certain he needed to absorb everything. He had gone from not believing to suddenly having the Nerevarine appear right in front of him. Nevano knew that he would have to drink an entire tavern’s worth of sujamma in order to accept that. Wordlessly he slid the bottle over to the captain, completely understanding when he downed the rest of it. 

“Jorun was right all along. I never really left. I went back and forth between Morrowind and Cyrodiil for years, helping where I could. During the Oblivion Crisis I closed as many gates as I could, during the Argonian invasion I would wipe out whatever camps I ran across. I just never rejoined any sort of main force. Then the Great War happened…”

“Chorrol. That really was you, wasn’t it?”

“The Thalmor made a bad enemy out of me that day.” Nevano opened another bottle. Too bad sujamma couldn’t wipe that memory out of his mind. “I’ve hated them ever since. Been a long hard road from there.”

“Yet you came back now.”

“I didn’t come back. I ended up back here. There’s a difference. Solstheim was NOT my idea.” Nevano really needed to ask Geldis for some stronger drink, “I came to help a friend. I’ll help with issues around here but I’m not fixing all of Morrowind.” Veleth nodded. He didn’t seem satisfied with that but he did seem to accept it. “So I heard the mine shut down?”

“Ran out of ore, or so I’m told.” Veleth said, going along with the abrupt change in topic admirably well, “Things have been rough since. There’s a man here in town who seems to think its all a big cover up by the East Empire Company. He goes on and on about needing to get down deep in the mine. Crazy old man.”

“Didn’t think that a mine that big would run out so fast.” Nevano commented, “I’ve seen smaller mines in Vvardenfell that have lasted longer.”

“Now you sound like the old man.” 

“Old minds think alike, kid.” Nevano grinned, “There’s no fool like an old fool, but we’re always right…shit that was me admitting I’m technically old out loud. Don’t get used to that.”

“I have to ask.” Veleth changed the topic as abruptly as Nevano had earlier, “Those swords. Are they…?” Nevano drew Hopesfire and Trueflame without hesitation, holding them up for the captain’s inspection, “Amazing. I never thought I’d ever see these two with my own eyes.”

“Neither did the Thalmor.” Nevano put them both on the table, running a hand over Hopesfire’s blade, watching blue flames flicker in the wake of his touch, “Then it was the last thing they ever saw. I should have killed their emissary but that might have caused more trouble than it would have been worth.”

“They really did have them then?”

“Briefly.” Nevano didn’t look up from his weapons, yellow eyes reflecting their razor sharp edge, “I was arrested at the Skyrim border simply for being in the wrong place and the wrong time. I was stripped of my gear and was about to be beheaded when a dragon, of all things, interrupted the Imperials little bloody ceremony. I escaped with a scant handful of people. The dragon trashed the town. I went back and recovered all my gear except the swords. The Thalmor had been in attendance and knew instantly that the swords were Truefire and Hopesflame…they just didn’t realize who I was. After several adventures, I retrieved them. I don’t think the Thalmor High Council is going to be promoting Elenwen anytime real soon.”

“So my father was right again…” Veleth said.

“Your father knows me well.” Nevano pointed out, “Had me pegged early, before even I knew me. He knew what I was going to do…and why I was going to do it.”

For a long moment Veleth was silent, twisting his jaw as he stared at the swords with narrowed eyes. He seemed to be wresting with some thought or another. “It’s bad…” he finally said slowly. 

“It’s bad everywhere.” Nevano said warily, knowing exactly where this was headed. 

“No…I was in Blacklight recently.” Veleth finally looked up and locked eyes with him, “You could cut the tension with a knife. The Thalmor don’t like the Dunmer insisting we remain as independent as we did under the Empire.”

“And just what do you think is going to change that?”

“Revolution.”

XxXxXx


	20. Veleth's Tale Part 1

Chapter 19

Veleth’s Tale Part 1

XxXxXx

Nevano made his way down into the mine, almost absently firing arrows off into the spiders that attempted to jump out of dusty corners at him. Revolution. The very word sent shivers down his spine. Revolution. It both excited him and filled him with dread. On one hand, it meant breaking away from everyone: Thalmor, the Imperials, the crumbling empire. They would be a free nation of elves, something the Chimer had left the Summerset Isles all those millennia ago to look for. On the other hand, that freedom was a double-edged sword. IF they gained independence, they would be on their own for the first time in hundreds of years. Nevano was no political strategist but even he knew that the independence the empire had allowed the Dunmer merely masked the intricate ties that bound them together. The Empire had been crafty; it had made itself so that the Dunmer NEEDED them. Could the Dunmer survive alone? That was the question it all hinged on and Nevano wasn’t sure he was the one who could answer that. He was willing to see if he could find parts of that answer though. 

He stopped dead, mid-way through kicking a dead spider out of the way. Did he just admit, albeit to himself, that he was willing to DO something about this? No. He came here to fix Solstheim with Gunjar. He was NOT the champion of this fight. He was going to help Raven Rock get back on its feet, win that drink from Gunjar, get back on the damned boat, get the hell out and go…where? He had no home anymore. He was a drifter, a mer who made his home on the road. Maybe he’d go back to Skyrim, explore the rest of the province. Maybe even find his way to Hammerfell, explore the deserts in a land where the Thalmor were most definitely not allowed. While that sounded nice, he found he simply couldn’t warm to the idea. Every time he thought about it, his mind wandered back east, to Morrowind. 

“Just…fix the mine. One problem at a time.” Nevano grumbled to himself, shrugging off a spider web, “Just focus on this first.”

The mine turned into a crypt filled with draugr, which didn’t improve Nevano’s mood any, though after dealing with the ash spawn the draugr were suddenly much easier to deal with. He was able to pick out which bodies seemed the most likely to animate and would quickly send an arrow to return them to full dead before they ever got a chance to get up. Deep in the barrow he found the skeleton of Gratian Caerellius surrounded by rocks stained black by 200-year-old bloodstains and the journal that proved that his great-grandson, Crescius, had been right all along. Score another point for crazy old men. 

Unfortunately, getting out of the barrow and killing the reavers blocking his way out was not enough to fully occupy his mind. Even while blood was splattering against his face and ducking vicious sword swings, his mind would wander back to the situation in Morrowind. He strongly suspected that both Nerevar and Azura were influencing his distraction, something he heavily resented both for distracting him during a fight and for trying to force him to do something. 

“Shut up.” He growled through clenched teeth, thoroughly confusing the reaver he was trying to kill, “Dammit, I made my choice to walk away just SHUT UP!!!”

The reaver, now thoroughly convince Nevano was insane, tried to scramble away but Truefire pinned him to the floor through a lung. 

“Gods dammit…” Nevano growled, “FINE! I’ll go talk with Veleth again but ONLY him.” 

All at once, all the distracting thoughts left his mind like mist dissipating in the sunshine. Too bad that sunshine couldn’t reach his mood. That was still black. Nevano walked out into fresh air…only to discover he was a good half a day’s walk away from Raven Rock. He let out a string of curses in his native tongue that made every animal in a mile radius duck for cover as he started his long trek back. 

XxXxXx

“So that old man was right after all.” Veleth said when Nevano caught up to him later to give him the good news, “I’ll have to muster some more men to protect the mines but I don’t have a problem with that. After all the strange things that have been going on around here, we’re more than eager to take on some reavers.” 

“Old men usually are right. We got to be old somehow.” Nevano said, earning an eye roll. The long walk back had improved his mood marginally but he was still a bit on the irritated side. “And I’m glad to have given you some new reaver punching bags.”

“Speaking of old men, Councilor Morvayn wants to know…”

“Hounding me for an answer never works, don’t even try it.” Nevano snapped, a little sharper than he meant to. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. Veleth had done nothing to deserve his ire. “Tell me something…how bad is it really? You started to tell me earlier but give me more details, from your perspective, not a politician’s view. I’m certain that Morvayn is one of the better ones but his mind thinks in terms of politics…I want YOUR view on things, in a view of the actual people.”

“It’s….” Veleth sighed, “The people are tense and upset but because it’s an everyday thing, they’ve become used to it. They learn to cope. They get together in the evenings, get a drink, slap their hands on the table and declare something needs to change but get up in the morning and go right back to putting up with it. In reality we are slowly being taken over. The Thalmor have long since learned that controlling the things that make up a culture’s identity, controls the culture itself. They took over the heart of the empire, the White-Gold Tower, the empire crumbled. They outlawed Talos worship, the Nords waged war against each other. Just about everyone else has already left the empire, Daggerfell is hidden behind Hammerfell and they use that as their shield, for now. They’ve already assimilated Cyrodiil, Valenwood and Elsweyr. Black Marsh…well, nobody wants to go there. Leaves just Morrowind for them to break. They wanted to try to use Truefire and Hopesflame but you took that opportunity from them. They’ll make another move soon. I’m just not sure what yet.”

“So you think that even though they’re still busy watching Skyrim, they’re going to turn their attention to Morrowind?” Nevano crossed his arms, “Ambitious.”

“To be honest, it’s ripe for the taking. We’re still recovering from the loss from the Red Year, the Argonian invasion and our political foundation is…not stable. I’m actually shocked it took them this long.”

Nevano fell silent for a moment, mulling this over. As outrageous as it all sounded on the outside, Nevano knew better than to discredit anything a Veleth said. They had a crazy knack for always being right and far too many people learned that after it was too late. Nevano was more than willing to take the mer’s theory as true. “Wait…what about Helseth? You never mentioned him.”

“King Hlaalu Helseth, son of the Queen Mother Barenziah? Dead. So is the Queen Mother.”

“I’m actually shocked that crafty fetcher could even be killed.” Nevano said flatly. He had never liked Helseth so he wasn’t exactly going to shed a tear over this bit of news. Still he had been a cornerstone in stabilizing Morrowind, mostly through murder and sabotage but that was everyday Dunmer politics. Him being dead was just another hole in Morrowind’s already tattered armor. He did mourn Barenziah’s death though. She had been the most intriguing mer he had ever met, stunning both in wit and beauty. She had managed to be on everyone’s side while simultaneously being on no one’s side. Her son was bluntly dangerous but Barenziah was the epitome of Dunmer subtly and intrigue. In Nevano’s opinion, her death was Morrowind’s greatest loss. 

“The Argonian invasion sacked Mournhold. Razed it completely to the ground. There was very little warning. It’s still being rebuilt.”

“So no political head.”

“Not really.” Veleth sighed, “There’s the Redoran councilors and some councilors from the other Great Houses but there’s more arguing than anything actually getting done.” 

“You just explained politics everywhere in a nutshell.” Nevano sighed, “Not a lot of choice is there?”

“Not really.” Veleth said again, giving a one shoulder shrug, “Like it or not, you are still a legend…but a very real legend. You re-appear the whole nation will rally behind you. Most of the fighters now grew up on the stories from their parents about the Nerevarine. You’re god-like to them”

Shit. Vith. Vermina’s rotted tits. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. He did NOT want to be thought of as god-like. As he had explained to Morvayn that was a level of power he had so desperately wanted to avoid. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust himself. He knew he would shove that power off as soon as he finished using it and try to divide it up to avoid fighting. He just didn’t trust the power vacuum it would inevitably leave behind. He needed more time to think on this. He needed a distraction. “How did you end up here? You have training that didn’t come from hanging around this island your whole life.”

Veleth blinked, “It’s…a long story.”

“We got time. You just finished a patrol. Next one doesn’t start for another few hours.”

“You have the patrols memorized?”

“It’s a habit.” Nevano shrugged, “Running from Ordinators will do that to you. Not everything I did on my way to this legendary status everyone gushes about was completely legal. I have respect for you guards but I prefer to know where all of you are at all times.”

“Right then…” Veleth sighed, “As I said, it’s a long story.”

XxXxXx

4E 140 – Southern Morrowind

It was boiling hot in the small town his squad had reclaimed, made worse by the heavy armor they wore. That’s how it was in southern Morrowind; hot, humid and oppressive, especially this close to the swamps of Black Marsh. Fortunately, Veleth and his men weren’t unused to the discomfort. They had all spent varying amounts of time in the southern portion of the province, every one of them a veteran to fighting in the heat. Still Veleth had made sure to get settled in this town before the heat of the day truly set in. He didn’t want to over-tax them just yet.

Veleth had no idea what the name of this particular village used to be. Not that it really mattered anymore. It had been completely demolished by the Argonians long ago. The farmlands around the village had been reclaimed by nature, only the skeletal remains of fencing marked out where the fields used to be. Homes had been demolished: frames still stood stubbornly against nature, the edges still blackened from long ago fires, but slowly were collapsing as rot and neglect set in. This was what he had decided they would camp in. A little macabre perhaps but unfriendly eyes were looking for actual camps, not a whole unit hiding in a ghost town. 

“Fortunately, most of the skeletons are dust.” Dalin R’is came up next to the young commander, “So while your…unconventional idea is a bit creepy, no one has been completely unnerved. Yet.”

“Meaning, they all still think I’m crazy but no one has pissed themselves and run away screaming yet.” Veleth was very familiar with R’is’ roundabout ways of speaking. After all, they’ve known each other since they were small children running around the streets of Blacklight, pretending they were Redoran soldiers killing the invaders in the south. R’is had stayed a friend as they grew into adolescents, even when others their age had shunned Veleth because he had had the “crazy” father. 

“Oh they’ve thought you were crazy from the start but you can be crazy and still be respected.” R’is grinned roguishly, “Besides, these are all roughened veterans, not raw recruits.” 

Veleth rolled his eyes. The day he was distinguished separately from his father was a day too soon. 

“So, oh glorious leader, what are our orders in this lovely little swamp?”

“There’s supposed to be a pocket of refugees that are trying to reach the Safepoint. We’re to find them and escort them to safety.” That was the official orders anyway. Unofficially, there was a camp of Argonians with one lizard in particular that they were to kill. They were supposed to “run across” the camp, to make it seem like an accident. The orders bothered Veleth more than a little. The issue of morality was there, of course. He didn’t believe in not telling his men their orders. He wanted them fully prepared for anything. This sneaking around was not something he liked doing. More than that, there was a gnawing in his belly that he couldn’t shake that had nothing to do with bad travel rations. He knew exactly what it was, of course; a healthy dose of paranoia his father had passed on to him. It was something he was not the least bit pleased with. 

“They sent a whole contingent of these hard asses for that? A rescue mission?” Veleth could hear the note of suspicion in R’is’ voice. R’is was no fool. He always saw right through bull shit. 

“There’s still a lot of hostile Argonians out there.” Veleth said, his stomach muscles clenching, feeling traitorous to the core. 

“You know, you’re a horrible liar.” Veleth looked up sharply. “Yeah, there it is. Don’t stake your fortune in a game of cards, you have the most obvious tell ever. Look, I get it. Orders are orders, even the stuff I’m not supposed to know. Just…I’d rather not die in a swamp.”

“Then don’t let your guard down.”

Veleth walked off before R’is could question further, feeling the traitorous hole in the pit of his belly open into a gaping maw. He had had no desire to be in this position. He had wanted to be a soldier his whole life, ever since he had been old enough to understand the hardships the Dunmer people had faced in recent times. He wanted to be someone who protected his homeland and his people from enemies who would see them destroyed. He had worked hard at that too, joining the Redoran Militia as soon as he was old enough, despite his parents’ misgivings. Well, his mother’s misgivings. His father, a veteran himself, simply told him to stay aware of his situation. Veleth hadn’t been too certain what he had meant at the time but Jorun hadn’t elaborated and he hadn’t asked for clarification. Even after many years and several promotions, even after becoming a commander despite his incredibly young age, he still hadn’t figured out what it meant. He wished he did though. It might help him out with this current situation. 

“Commander Veleth?” He looked up to see a lightly armored scout seemingly materialize from the surrounding wilderness. Even with red eyes blinking up at him, he hardly looked like a Dunmer. He was the color of the scenery around them. Even his dusky skin seemed less like a Dunmer’s and more like the local fauna. That didn’t overly surprise Veleth. The scouts that ran southern Morrowind were some of the best in their field. They had to be. Their enemies were incredibly in tune with their surroundings, not some city-bred human who wouldn’t notice a wild cat until its fangs were sunk in their neck. This wasn’t a war in the modern sense; this was guerilla warfare. “Report for you, sir.”

He nodded for the scout to go ahead.

“We’ve reports about the holding south of Narsis; several dozen Dunmer who had tried to reestablish their families homes despite the danger. The Argonians recently have begun to make advancements on the settlement. It started as just mild things, stealing crops and the like but its been escalating. Finally a woman was killed about a week ago. General Relas has personally asked for you to escort them to Safepoint Stros.”

“Understood.” Veleth said shortly.

“Also, the Argonian encampment is northeast of the settlement. I was asked to note that to you.”

Of course it was. The orders were supposed to be very simple. Escort the civilians to the Safepoint. It should be an in and out mission, a week at the most, especially as close to the Safepoint Stros as they were. The Safepoints had been established shortly after the Argonians had invaded in 4E 5. The Argonians had advanced quickly, overwhelming Narsis and Tear in a matter of days and reached Mournhold before anyone had any clear warning. The city had been utterly devastated, panicked people fleeing as fast as they could in all directions. House Redoran had been the only one to jump to action, quickly mobilizing the militia it had formed during the Oblivion Crisis to establish barricades along the main road from the mountain pass leading to Blacklight across the province to Necrom. Kogo, Isra, Stros, Adrusa, Vvarden and Zyr, respectfully, had stood as the final barrier against the invaders. From there generals, one assigned to each Safepoint, had dispatched soldiers and escorted refugees to safety in either Necrom or Blacklight, using the Velothi Mountain range and the Padomaic Ocean as barriers to keep the invaders corralled in the south. Through sheer stubbornness and willful determination, they managed to prevent the Argonians from marching northward. Now, 135 years after the initial invasion, the fighting was at a stalemate. The Dunmer simply didn’t have the numbers to drive the Argonians fully from Morrowind back to Black Marsh and the Argonians couldn’t break through the stubborn line of Safepoints. 

The young commander watched as the scout melted back into the wild like a deer. He knew why the scout had mentioned the Argonian encampment. His unofficial orders. He ground his jaw as he remembered the tightly folded note passed to him surreptitiously. He was to wipe out the Argonian encampment, namely an assassin who was under the employ of the An-Xileel. This particular Shadowscale, Scar-Throat, had managed to sneak into Safepoint Vvarden and almost succeeded in assassinating the general there. General Nasvani had survived the attempt and everything had resumed as normal. However, Councilor Nartise Arobar had taken grave offence to the attempt and wanted retaliation. Why she had chosen him, Veleth couldn’t fathom. Then there was the issue of making it seem like they had run across the camp by accident. Of course, no one would believe that. It was as transparent as glass but as long as the politicians could act like they had no involvement, everyone could sleep at night. 

Everyone except Veleth that is. His hands tightened into fists. He was not the Morag Tong. He was not a hired sword. He was a soldier under House Redoran, the greatest of the Great Houses. He heavily resented being sent out to kill a target like a hired assassin. The councilors should keep their noses out of the military business. They should be more worried about making Morrowind a strong province like it had over a century ago. Instead, they were more worried about instructing the militia to do coups on anyone that irritated them. He remembered how he had complained about politics to his father. Jorun had been quiet for a moment before saying “Soldiers do not start wars. Soldiers do not end wars. War is started by those who desire power. Remember that. You have romantic views of killing other warriors who are out to destroy the world, but that’s not always the case. They believe in their cause as ardently as you do. On the battlefield, everyone is the same. War is a game of politics. You cannot have one without the other.”

“Damn…” He murmured to himself. He turned back towards camp. He would let his men rest for the night. Tomorrow morning, they would head out. Tomorrow, he would be less of a soldier and more of a counter in a political game. Tomorrow, he would hate himself with every fiber of his being. His only solace was that he was determined to find the settlers and get them to Stros. He could still be a soldier even as he played politics. 

XxXxXx

Narsis had once been a major thriving city in the fertile Deshaan plains. Once the seat of House Hlaalu, it had started to decline in 3E 433 when the events of the Oblivion Crisis caused a drastic decline in trade all across Tamriel. Five years later, when the Argonians invaded and Hlaalu was stripped of its Great House status, Narsis became a crumbling ruin, the small settlements and villages that veined out around it withering and dying out. As the initial onslaught died down, a few families had dared to make their way south again to try to regain their homes. Many hadn’t been heard from again. Those that did survive came back with horror stories of a land full reclaimed by the wild and of strange looking Argonians with a bloodlust to rival that of rabid dogs. That was in the forefront of the unit of Dunmer warriors’ minds as they made their way southwest, keeping them hyper aware and focused. 

The going became more difficult the further south they got, the ground becoming increasingly soggier. This was the very southern end of Morrowind, where the plains started to give way to swamps. While it made for incredible farmland for crops that loved wetlands like saltrice, it made it difficult for soldiers who would have to fight in water then march home soaking wet and covered in mud. 

“Something doesn’t feel right.” R’is murmured quietly as he walked next to Veleth, eyes narrowed. Veleth had to agree. Something was agitating that paranoid creature that lived in the pit of his stomach. It clawed at him, raising the hair on the back of his neck sharpening his senses into a hyper-awareness. “We aren’t that far from the settlement are we?”

“Not very. Several miles. We’re just northeast of it.” Veleth answered. Suddenly he halted, raising his hand to halt everyone as well. His gut had reached a fever pitch of agitation, telling him that he needed to look around, to be aware. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what was bothering it, “Do you smell that?”

“No I-oh wait there it is.” R’is inhaled, “That’s not swamp stink.”

R’is was right; it wasn’t swamp stink. Swamps had a deep rotting scent that permeated into everything that walked through. This smell that was wafting in on the weak wind was a sickly, almost sweet scent made every basic instinct in him recoil and want to run. Unfortunately he knew exactly what that scent was. There was only one smell like that in the world: death. Veleth exchanged a look with R’is. That was a very bad sign. In wordless agreement they turned towards the wind and followed the smell. They didn’t have to go far. Less than half a mile away they came to a clearing, surrounded by stagnant water pools and made a horrifying discovery. 

“By Azura…” R’is breathed in shock. 

The entire clearing was decorated with the dead hanging bodies of the Dunmer farmers from the settlement. Men, women…even children. They had been there for a while, judging by the state of decomposition the bodies were in. Then the wind shifted and the smell hit them all full in the face. It was so powerful, both physically and emotionally, that several mer doubled over and vomited, the rest of them recoiling. Veleth felt like joining them but he clenched his jaw as hard as he could, forcing his stomach back down his throat through sheer will alone. He wished he could have done more for them. There was nothing they could have done to change the outcome though. Even if they had run the moment they had gotten their orders and didn’t stop, they still wouldn’t have gotten here in time to save these people, but seeing them hanging from the trees, that didn’t seem a good enough excuse.

“Cut them down.” He said once he trusted his stomach to stay where it was once he opened his mouth, “We can’t just leave them here. Half of you cut them down. The rest of you find some dry wood and a dry spot. We’ll give them as proper a funeral as we can. Stay on alert though. While this scene is old, their attackers may not have gone far. Once we start the fires, we go.”

As his men got to work, R’is sidled over, “There’s a camp of Argonians nearby, isn’t there?”

“Dalin…”

“Don’t give me that. I know you have secondary orders…or rather, someone wanted to make it primary orders and used these poor fetchers as a good excuse.”

“Dalin, you know all I ever wanted to do was protect my homeland. I don’t care for politics, I don’t care for intrigue or any of that stupid shit that goes on behind city walls were it’s safe and comfortable.” Veleth said, anger seeping into his voice, “No matter what I was told, my intention, first and foremost, was to get these people to safety. I am not an assassin or a mercenary.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are.” R’is crossed his arms, “If you had told me in the first place, I would have told you that I got your back. I know where you stand, oh noble-hearted s’wit. Stop being so heroic. That’s going to get you killed. So some councilor is trying to use you as a tool. Who do we need to kill?”

Veleth stared at his friend, for a moment a bit overwhelmed at the frank acceptance. 

“What? Do you think for a moment that I’m just going to drop you for shit out of your control? You have to follow orders, same as I do. I’m not some petty girl who’s going to get my nose out of joint because things are going perfectly according to plan.” R’is nudged Veleth in the ribs, “That, and I think after seeing this, every mer here will be willing to kill a few lizards.”

“Remember a few months back General Nasvani in Safepoint Vvarden nearly got killed?”

“Yeah. Crazy bastard. Even after he got his neck sliced he still bellowed louder than an angry guar.”

“I was told to kill that assassin.” Veleth finally admitted, the words bitter on his tongue, “It’s supposed to be a large camp but seeing this is…not good.”

“So they sent YOU to go kill a Shadowscale?” R’is asked incredulously, “Like sending the bull after a snake. I see why they bolstered the numbers so much. Alright. After we finish here, let’s go kill some Argonians, then go home and deliver some bittersweet news.”

Veleth opened his mouth to respond but before any words could come out his sixth sense roared to life again, making him snap his mouth shut and spin around, staring off into one particular spot in the woods. Why that spot he could not rightly say but he couldn’t look away. 

“What is it?” R’is was instantly on alert, more than a little familiar with that fine-tuned sixth sense of paranoia that ran in the Veleth bloodline. Veleth might resent having the paranoia and reactions of a horse in a wolf-infested forest; there was no denying that it was incredibly useful, especially since they were the horses in Argonian infested swamplands. 

“We’re being watched.” Veleth said. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel it. His sudden alertness had startled their observers; he could feel the shift in the air. They had planned on taking them unawares but he had taken that element of surprise. He gave a sharp whistle and instantly every soldier, who had been listening in as soon as they saw their commander go on the alert, drew their weapons. Like R’is, they knew and appreciated the paranoid gut. It was never wrong. 

That was when the world exploded into action. Argonians materialized from the brush, dropped from trees and emerged from the swampy water all around. The Dunmer soldiers were not unprepared, thanks to their commander’s intuition, but they were still thrown back on their heels as the sheer numbers of opponents descended upon them. However, these were all seasoned fighters. They pushed back and quickly gained even footing over their adversaries. The bloody clearing quickly became coated in a fresh layer of blood of both mer and reptile, the stillness of the swamp shattered by the clashing of weapons and the screams of war and death. 

Veleth whipped his sword out and through the throat of an Argonian charging at him, anger boiling in him. The number of Argonians pouring into the clearing at his men was way more than any of the briefings alluded to, not to mention that they were still several miles from the Argonian camp and twice that from the settlement. Only one thing came to mind with this information; they had been set up. The settlers had been dead long before they had gotten there and left right where Veleth would find them. It had been a damn trap…and he had led his men right into it. 

“Is all of Black Marsh coming at us or something?” R’is shouted next to him, strings of blood crisscrossing his face like war paint. Veleth grunted in reply, too busy furiously fighting off Argonians to formulate a reply. 

The battle raged on, with no end of the waves of Argonians in sight. Still the Dunmer fought grimly on, not giving an inch even as their numbers began to dwindle. Veleth was beginning to get a feeling that he needed to find a way to get his men out. Despite his brave soldiers killing five, ten, even fifteen of the reptilian men, they were still being assaulted from all sides and their energy was beginning to flag. Veleth himself was beginning to fully feel the weight of his weapon and the burn in his arm with every swing. He was just about to call a retreat when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of the Argonian rising from the swamp behind him, spear in hand, but, caught up as he was with the two already in front of him, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He tried to side step, to move so that the third was at least around to his side where he had a better chance of defending himself but his wily opponents saw right through his plan and pressed him harder, refusing to allow him to take those few crucial steps. He cursed to himself, remembering his father’s words, “Stay aware of your situation, son”. Veleth suddenly realized exactly what he had meant but he feared that that lesson had sunk in just a tad too late. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. The Argonian, still below him in the swamp, had lined up the spear with his spine, obviously planning on throwing his whole weight behind the thrust to destroy Veleth’s heavy armor and the vulnerable flesh beneath. He had mere seconds to act. 

He twisted his body, hoping beyond all hope that it would miss, that it would be a glancing blow, that his armor could absorb the hit and he would have a few more seconds to get a better position, but that was not to be. Almost as if he was in a dream and he was watching it happen to someone else, he felt a terrible jolt as the spear collided with his armor. For a moment it seemed as if it would hold, but then with a loud crack that he swore the world over could hear, it gave way. There was a sickening pop that he couldn’t quite identify and then warmth rushing down his entire left side, followed by a bloom of nauseating cold that permeated his entire body. He looked down and saw the bloodstained barb of the spear protruding from his body like a bloody flag. Strangely there was no pain, like it wasn’t even his body it was coming from. The three Argonians backed off, believing him to be a dead mer. That infuriated him even more. He wasn’t dead yet dammit!

Mustering the last of his strength, he whipped his sword in a wild strike, not really aiming for any body part in particular. The two lizard-men in front of him fell back, each clutching at ruined skin. Not a serious strike but it might have bought him a little time. The third behind him twisted the spear, ripping his flesh further, trying to get him to go down once and for all.

That was when the pain hit, instantly draining him of the anger-driven rush he had been riding earlier. White-hot lightning shrieked through his body with the fury of a hurricane. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony. It took a moment for him to realize that it had manifested itself in a physical scream that ripped itself from his throat in a guttural roar. Soon he knew it would turn into a death cry. He was done for. He remembered R’is saying how he didn’t want to die in a swamp. He agreed whole-heartedly with that sentiment. This was truly a miserable place to die. 

“Veleth!”

Several arrows whistled by his ear and thudded into the Argonian behind him. The lizard fell back, unfortunately not letting go of the spear. Veleth felt himself being dragged backwards into the swamp, but he no longer had enough control over his limbs to stop himself. Hands grabbed him before he hit the foul water but the spear kept going, the barbed head catching on to the edge of his ruined armor and coming to a jarring halt. The Argonian’s death grip kept pulling on the spear, starting to pull it back through his body, shredding his flesh further as it gave way. Soon, it would tear a massive hole through him. He knew he wouldn’t survive a wound like that, even if a healer was casting healing spells on him at that moment. 

“Adro! Cut that haft! I can’t keep playing tug-of-war with him here!” R’is bellowed. 

Had Veleth had the awareness or the control over his body he would have immediately and emphatically downed the idea. Unfortunately, he no longer had such abilities. As such, when the sudden jolt of the sword hacking through the haft violently shook in his damaged body, he screamed louder than he ever had in his life, blood flecking his lips as his body convulsed against the blinding pain. 

“Sir, what do we do?”

“They backed off for now. Round up the injured.” R’is said grimly, hauling Veleth away from the fetid water, “We’re getting the hell outta here before they decide to come finish us off.”

As he was hauled up and dragged out of the blood-soaked clearing, Veleth looked up and locked eyes with an Argonian hiding in the trees. As the reptilian being melted back into the trees, Veleth could have sworn he saw a massive scar going across the thing’s throat. His final realization before his mind blanked out completely was that he had failed miserably. 

XxXxXx


	21. Veleth's Tale Part 2

Chapter 20

Veleth’s Story Part 2

XxXxXx

4E 140 – Safepoint Stros, Morrowind

Veleth was fairly certain his next step was going to be his last. His battered unit had been limping through the wilderness to Safepoint Stros for the past several days. They were all beyond exhausted but they hadn’t dared stop. Once Veleth had regained some control over his body, he had insisted on walking, something R’is had greatly disapproved of but stubborn pride had prevailed. Now he couldn’t say if he regretted his decision or not as his mind had completely shut out such thoughts, focused entirely on mustering the energy to move his body forward one single step at a time. With each step he could feel that focus fading a little bit more. His body was trying to shut down. When he started walking every step had sent waves of agony through him but now he was numb to the pain completely. He could feel the blood slowly dripping down his side from his grievous wound, the bandage hastily wrapped around it barely helping at all. 

“We’ll be there soon.” R’is said tersely beside him, making sure he didn’t drop face-first into the ground, “Weren’t you supposed to be off this rotation anyway?”

He was, wasn’t he? He had gone out again and again, somehow avoiding the mandatory rotation out. The rotations were a six-month chunk that each soldier was required to take every third rotation off. This was to keep soldiers fresh and morale up. Veleth didn’t like the thought of just leaving his men abruptly so he had simply avoided the check-in station. The check-ins were, fortunately for him, disorganized and no one had noticed. He had avoided his last two rotations off that way. 

“You’re an idiot.” R’is muttered, offering him a shoulder when his stumbling got worse. "You were supposed to be off. Why can't you take your time off like everyone else? Idiot."

“Sure seems like it…” Veleth croaked out, his throat completely dry. 

“We’re almost there.” R’is repeated more to himself than out loud, “I’m hauling you to a healer first and don’t you dare argue with me. You are by far the worst off. Why they couldn’t establish a safe point south of Mournhold I don’t understand.”

Veleth didn’t answer. He didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t care that he was the worst off. He wanted his men taken care of. 

“They can walk better than you right now.” R’is said, reading his mind. He didn’t add “those that survived” but it hung in the air as heavy as fetid swamp air. It was particularly difficult for Veleth to swallow. Something had gone wrong somewhere…he just wasn’t sure where. They had been miles away from the Argonian camp…yet they had known exactly where the Dunmer unit was going to be. How had they known? More importantly, who had told them? Was it a mole? A traitor? There was simply no way it was coincidence. Veleth didn’t believe in coincidences. 

“There! We made it!”

Relief managed to work its way through his mind at the sight of Stros’ gates. That small rush of emotion proved to be the breaking point for his battered body. Just as they crossed the gate, everything simultaneously quit and he collapsed into darkness. 

He had no idea how long he was out. He awoke to his body feeling like it was being consumed by fire. He tried to open his eyes but the world was spinning like a gyroscope. He quickly closed them again as his stomach churned. Not a good feeling.

Forcing his eyes back open and ignoring the dizziness he looked down at his body. He had been stripped of his armor, though he suspected that that had been ruined beyond repair. Thanks the Reclamations that no one had insisted on throwing a blanket over him. It was far too hot for that, especially with his skin feeling like it was about to catch on fire. Or was it cold? He couldn’t make up his mind if he was hot or cold. He had a few bruises and cuts decorating his bare torso but those were purely superficial. Then his gaze was drawn to the stained bandage wrapped around his midsection. Carefully, wincing more than a little, he peeled back the bandage to see just how bad the wound really was. With a slightly choked grunt he realized it was far worse than he thought. Granted he knew it was bad, it had been a through and through wound after all, but he hadn’t expected it to look so angry. The entire left side of his abdomen was already swollen, the area around the wound was hard and hot to the touch, his dusky skin stained a darker color. The edges were raised and splitting slightly from the swelling and faint red streaks were starting to lead from the wound. That was worrisome. He was starting to think that maybe that spear had been poisoned. It was fairly common for Argonians to poison their weapons. That could explain the dizziness and the fever. If it was it wasn’t a very strong one. Thank Azura for small miracles. 

He replaced the bandage on the wound and looked up at the ceiling, finding it far easier to deal with the vertigo when he was looking at a solid stretch of one dark color. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was in Stros but it seemed to be one of the temporary housing units, judging by the dark canvas roof. Normally those were used to house soldiers when there were more soldiers than space, usually during rotation changes, but he knew that these units were also used to hold those that were deemed too injured to save. They were put here so they could die away from the injured whose already broken moral might shatter entirely being around the mortally wounded. 

“What do you mean ‘there’s nothing you can do’?!” R’is. Definitely R’is’ voice. Not too far either…and none too happy. 

“I’m sorry sir but we simply don’t have the resources. Next rotation…” The voice that drifted in on the tailwinds of R’is’ angry words sounded young. More than likely it was a kid not yet at the age where he could officially join the ranks so instead ran around the Safepoints serving as errand boys. Poor kid didn’t sign up for this though. 

“Next rotation?! That’s WEEKS away! I could get him to Blacklight myself and ride back before then!” R’is was really getting worked up. Veleth could envision it easily; waving his arms and his red eyes burning a bright cherry red. He would have smirked had he the energy. It was always funny to listen to when he wasn’t the one dealing with it. “What about teleport mages? I know there were volunteer Guild Guides.”

“There are so few of them, they were directed mostly to Adrusa…”

There was a period of heavy silence and Veleth cringed inwardly. R’is had reached the zone of no return. He knew exactly what had happened; R’is’ earlier wild expression would have dropped suddenly, replaced by a blank mask, betrayed only by the fire smoldering in his eyes. It was the calm before the storm, the silence before the explosion. 

“Do you mean to tell me that this Safepoint has no supplies…”

“Sir…”

“For the refugees who are STILL making their way north…”

“Sir, I..”

“Or for the soldiers who are out here getting their asses kicked…”

“Sir, please!”

“Because, somehow, WE CAN’T FIND MORE THAN FOUR GODS DAMNED MAGES IN THE ENTIRE OBLIVION FORSAKEN PROVINCE?!”

Veleth felt his stomach muscles unclench as the explosion finally came. He knew R’is temper; this was incredibly mild. The poor kid he was yelling at was completely unnerved but was getting off very lucky. Normally things would be flying through the air, punctuated by lots of screaming. Heavy things. Like chairs or tables. Veleth had actually learned to duck at an early age thanks to his best friend’s temper. Too bad he hadn’t been able to duck this last strike. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do about it!” The kid mustered up some courage from somewhere to blurt that out to the enraged soldier. Brave kid. Brave but foolish. “They said he’s going to die anyway.”

“Get out.”

Veleth listened to the sounds of the kid scramble away with an odd detachment. So they really thought he was going to die, did they? In all honesty he could see their point; it was grievous wound, deadly enough on its own. He was pretty surprised he hadn’t bled out on the way here. However, with the addition of poison, no matter how weak, or infection? He could see how he was considered a dead man. Veleth ground his teeth as his stubborn pride flickered briefly, even as it set off little explosions of pain through his head. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t going to die. Not like this. 

“Figures the only thing that wakes you up is my bellowing…” R’is flopped down gracelessly next to him, rubbing a hand over his face, “And, of course, you had to do this to yourself in an area with the least available help around. I swear you have a death wish. Don’t you dare respond. Keep your mouth shut and rest while I try to think of something to keep you alive. Before you start to think about arguing, all the men are fine. They’ve all had healing potions forced down their throats and are just hanging out waiting to see what happens to you. A healing potion won't do a damn thing for you. There aren’t even healers here. The only ones here that pass for healers can’t tell a cut from a canker soar. They moved you here because they think you’re going to die and its much easier to let you do that out of sight. Just…let me think.”

Veleth stayed silent, more than a little annoyed at that. Dimly he was aware that being able to feel that annoyance was a great improvement from when he walked through the gate and that without help he would soon deteriorate far past that point. He ground his teeth again. He was not going to die.

“Sergeant R’is.” Veleth heard another mer enter the tent-like building. He recognized the voice instantly though. It was General Deros Relas, one of the mer who was responsible for driving the Argonians out of Mournhold and back into southern Morrowind, the man in charge of Safepoint Stros and their direct commanding officer. 

“General!” R’is shot to his feet and stood sharply at attention. Veleth tried to raise himself up, purely out of habit, but R’is shot him a swift kick to the ribs. Stars exploded in his vision and he dropped back flat on his back with a groan.

“At ease, both of you.” The general said with a frown, “R’is, I could hear you bellowing clean across the Safepoint. The only bellowing I want to hear is that of a supply caravan coming in. Now, before I get into that, I’ve gotten wind of a piece of information that is a bit…perturbing. Is it true that our dear commander Veleth here took the last six rotations without taking the mandatory rotations off?”

“It’s true, sir, but I think the number is a bit higher than you think. He’s been out here for a few years without taking any time off.” R’is gave a warning nudge to Veleth’s shoulder with his toe to warn him not to argue.

“Not sure how he managed to pull that stunt off at the check-ins.” General Relas shook his head, “I’ll have a word with them later. We have a bit more pressing matter. As you have found out by now, this Safepoint is tapped out in terms of supplies. We are the farthest one away from both Blacklight and Necrom. Adrusa gains priority over us as it is closest to Mournhold and there are two other checkpoints before us coming from Blacklight. We are dangerously undersupplied. We have been sending the injured out to Safepoint Kogo and from there they go to Blacklight, if they survive. The next caravan out doesn’t leave for another week and a half.”

R’is hissed through his teeth, “Sir, Veleth doesn’t HAVE a week. I can get him to Kogo in that time…”

“Officially, I have to tell you no. He has to wait, just like the others.” The general turned to go, “However, it’d be a shame to lose such a promising young commander, even if he hasn’t learned to tell the councilors to shove their secretive agendas where the sun don’t shine yet. There’s two horses tied up behind the command tent. They need to be exercised. I’ll be in a meeting for the next hour.” The general stopped at the door, “I don’t want to see either of you when I get back.” 

“Vith, vith, vith…” R’is started to swear colorfully, running around and shoving things into his bag, “We’re not going to the next Safepoint. I’m not going to risk this again. We’re going to Blacklight. It’s a five-day ride. VITH that’s going to be rough…you got to hang in there until we get there, Modyn.”

Veleth gritted his teeth and shoved himself up, biting back a groan of pain. “Don’t have a choice, do I?” By Azura, even his voice sounded like he was on the verge of death. "Wait...did he say sergeant? Aren't you a Lieutenant?"

“No, you don’t.” R’is threw a shirt at him, "And remember that incident in which several trees, a few buildings, a fence and the general's quarters caught on fire? That's why I'm a sergeant. Now shut up and get up."

Never before had standing been so horrible. The world bucked and spun around him, leaving him barely able to catch it with his feet as he staggered along with R’is holding him up. His side throbbed. Actually, throbbed was not the right word. Pounding pulses of pure agony was more like it. It nearly threw him back to the ground and it would have had R’is not been there holding him up. He grunted, desperately wishing he could curl into a ball.

“None of that.” R’is shook him gently, “Don’t give up before we even get going. Stand up straight, soldier!”

They made it to the back of the officer’s building without anyone seeing them. Veleth idly wondered if his men had heard the exchange and surreptitiously cleared the way. Sure enough there were two horses standing tied, each had a back hoof cocked and their eyes were half closed. They were good enough horses, he supposed. They were tall, muscular creatures, certainly strong enough to make it to Blacklight at a fast pace. Getting on the horse was pure hell. The skin around his wound stretched and pulled, causing more waves of pain to roll through his already battered body. He was infinitely relieved when R’is tied the lead of his horse to his own horse in front, leaving Veleth to fully concentrate on staying on the shifting swaying mass underneath him. He sent up a quick thanks to Azura that this horse was fairly smooth and didn’t have the jolting, jarring trot that some horses had. Still, it was taking a lot out of him to just hang on and not slid completely off and they hadn’t even made it through the Safepoint yet. 

After they cleared Stros’ gates, Veleth slid into a dazed state. A few times his consciousness surfaced into reality and he caught a few glimpses of clarity. R’is telling him how far from Blacklight they were, the horse sometimes picked the pace up, and an increasingly crisp wind that was both a relief and torture on his fevered skin. Try as he might, he couldn't stay fully aware, which was either a blessing or a curse, given the length of the ride. He couldn't fully decide. He was dimly aware that R'is avoided Isa and Kogo, even waiting until nightfall to bypass Kogo. Why was he...? Oh yeah, they were technically AWOL, even if Relas had indirectly given them permission. 

The rest of the ride he stayed in a black half sleep that was shot with ribbons of blue and red that twisted and shimmered like snakes. He could hear himself breathing, each breath felt as hot as smoke from Red Mountain in his lungs. He tried to breath less as he knew that smoke was bad. Smoke meant ash and too much ash could lead to Red Lung for those who weren’t used to it. He had gotten the disease as a child after a freak wind change had brought a large amount of ash to Blacklight and had spent two miserable weeks trying his best to cough up a lung. He couldn’t cough now, the pulsating wound on his side would burst. 

Speaking of his wound, was that a waterfall? It felt like a waterfall going down his side. He couldn’t tell what was coming from it though. Oddly enough he could see the wound, even though it was through his back and out his front. Angry red streaks ran from is like tongues from a dragon, bright green poison surging within the streaks, pumping through his veins with every heartbeat. The edges were raised like fault lines. Those fault lines were oozing burning hot lava. That scared him. He wanted to brush the lava off him but even the heat-resistant skin of a Dunmer was no match against molten lava. 

“-eleth. Veleth! Dammit, MODYN!” He snapped back to reality. The horses were moving fast, very fast. R’is was sitting behind him, holding him up as they galloped along. He could hear the horse’s hoofs clattering against stone. “Wake up! Gods damn it all, we’re almost there. Don’t you DARE die on me!”

Veleth tried to reply. He tried his hardest to get his tongue and lips to form a reply but it was like that connection to his brain was cut. His body was at the end of the line and shutting down. He couldn’t even wonder at where they were. They could be in oblivion for all he could tell…or care. 

The horse slid to a halt and R’is jumped off, dragging Veleth with him. He couldn’t even feel it this time. A cold emptiness was taking over. His limbs twitched involuntarily and his vision took on a hazy black ring that was starting to close in around everything. Soon it would be over. Truth be told he was almost relieved at that prospect. He was so tired… 

He heard a pounding noise. Frantic voices breached the cloud that was taking over his mind. Then someone else was supporting his failing body, a strong powerful presence that picked him up like he weighed no more than a child. His last lucid thought was that at least he would get to die surrounded by a presence that reminded him of his father. 

XxXxXx

The world swirled in a confusing amalgam of colors and shapes that he couldn’t fully identify. Every time he tried to focus fully on it, it disappeared in the black mist that hovered at the edges. Every now and then noises would pierce through, noises he thought he recognized but like with the tornado of images, he couldn’t quite place just what they were. His mind wouldn't let him breach the black pool he was in to fully hear the noises that hovered above the surface. 

Eventually all the colors coalesced into a storm of red and grey, a flurry that reminded him if the stories of the bad ash storms his father had often told him about. He had seen ash storms, of course, but the winds usually kept Vvardenfell's ash storms away from the shores of Blacklight. This was a bad one. He couldn't see anything through it. That made him nervous; he wasn't used to being stripped of his senses.

Suddenly a figure appeared in front of him. Despite the abrupt appearance, Veleth was relaxed, almost as if he expected it. He couldn't see the figure's face, couldn't tell if the smaller being was male or female, human or mer, but he knew that this mysterious person was a friend despite the dark appearance. It reached out and grabbed Veleth's arm in an astonishingly strong grip and began to pull him through the curtain of falling ash. Veleth surprised himself by not protesting in the slightest. He simply followed like a loyal dog. 

The rain of red and grey cleared and Veleth found himself standing alone on a high ridge overlooking a massive lake. In the center of the lake was an island with a large walled city on it, a massive pale tower rising majestically above the darker buildings that peeked out over the walls. Even at this distance he could see people walking along the stone bridge that connected the island city to the mainland. He could tell they were mostly human, if their skin tone and dress was anything to go by. What city was this? He didn't recognize it. 

He did jump this time when the dark being reappeared next to him. This time he was able to see that the being wasn't made of shadows like he though in his initial impression but was dressed all in black. He still couldn't make out anything else though, as covered as it was. The being wordlessly pointed southward. Veleth followed his finger and saw a massive storm brewing, the black clouds slowly advancing on the bustling city below. It wasn't a natural storm. It made the hair on the back of Veleth's neck stand on end and his skin crawl. This wasn't a storm he wanted to be caught in. He looked back down at the city; none of the citizens seemed to be aware of the approaching danger. They calmly went in and out of the city gates, children ran down to the lake to swim, horses grazed in a small paddock by the gates, guards patrolled the long bridge. Veleth took a step forward, the urge to warn them of the impending danger overwhelming, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back at the dark-dressed figure, who slowly shook its head. 

The wind picked up and the storm bore down on them quickly. Still no one seemed to notice. Flags were ripped from their poles, small trees were uprooted and waves pounded against the bridge but still there was no sense of alarm. Then the rain hit. Veleth narrowed his eyes. That wasn't normal rain. Was that...? He recoiled as he recognized the color. It was raining blood. The people had stopped moving, standing stock still, their faces blank as blood ran down like macabre tears.

The figure tugged at his arm again before the horrible rain could reach them and the bloody city disappeared behind the haze of red and grey again. Veleth was a little rattled. He had no idea what was going on or why he was being shown this. He knew that his guide wasn't out to hurt him but he wasn't so sure he wanted to see anything else it had to show him. 

He was understandably apprehensive when found himself standing on the side of a mountain, again looking down on smaller village this time. Snow covered the landscape, giving everything a cheery, crisp feel. He didn't see as many people as he had in the walled city but given that it was cold enough for this much snow he wasn't all that surprised. He wasn't all that fond of snow himself. No Dunmer was. Looking beyond the town, he could see quite a bit of whatever province he was in. It seemed to be a primitive land, gorgeous and untamed. The snow faded away further down the mountain, giving way to thick pine forests. What he didn't see, mercifully, was a storm of blood. 

The relief was short lived. Again he felt that hand on him and he looked over to his dark companion looking straight up into the sky. He followed the gaze and again flinched. The sky was on fire. The flames swirled like snakes in the sky, weaving in and out of each other with the delicacy of lovers. Then, one at a time, they twisted and descended like hawks going in for the kill, raining hell fire on the pristine innocent land below. The town below was hit the hardest, houses veritably exploding under the powerful force. 

As before, Veleth was pulled away before the rain of death could harm him, back to the relative safety of the ash storm. 

"No more." he tried to say, but he found he couldn't even open his mouth to form the words. His vocal chords refused even to allow him to grunt. The pressure on his arm lessened slightly and the dark being inclined its head while holding up its other hand apologetically. They weren't done yet. 

This time, instead of the cloud of ash, it seemed as if the world flew by as the dark being led him on. Each step was a different place, a city, a town, a open landscape. Each had their own disaster that befell them, each being destroyed one by one. A village falling to a wave of back garbed figures, a island rolled over by fire, a town swallowed by sand, an entire city sinking into a giant hissing chasm. He was quickly wearied by it. He was a soldier, someone who fervently believed in fighting for what was right but what was the point of fighting if in the end everything was destroyed?

The figure gave him a sharp painful squeeze. Disapproval. He could feel a harsh gaze on him from somewhere in the dark clothing. Don't think like that. Veleth realized that they had stopped but he didn't want to look around. He didn't want to see another bit of destruction. He had fought for years to try to stave off destruction and in the end, he was nothing but one tiny dot futilely fighting against a massive tide. How could he stop that?

Another squeeze, this time accompanied by a shake. He finally looked up and yielded to the demand to look. He instantly recognized where he was. He was in Morrowind, floating above the province. He could see from Blacklight all the way to Firewatch on the opposite peninsula, from Vvardenfell all the way to Tear, the southern most town in the province. Morrowind...his home. No, not this. He couldn't bear to see its destruction. 

Sure enough, a wall of back and red appeared in the southwest, across the border, a writhing mass of creatures that seemed poised to tear the province apart. It made its steady march closer, Veleth's heart sinking with every inch it gained closer. Another shake. He looked over and saw that the being was pointing at something ahead of the wall. He looked closer. Four dots of light, gold, red, orange and green, stood defiantly in front of the horde. Amazingly, the darkness halted in front of the lights. From behind the defiant little group of lights came a small glow. It was tiny and faint at first but then it began to grow. Veleth watched in amazement as glowing spheres came in from all around, from the north, the south, the west, the east, even flying in from above. They all seemed to be massing behind the points of light, answering some unheard call. Soon it grew into a army that rivaled that of the dark mass. They began to glow brighter and brighter, the light swelling to engulf the darkness. The black army began to push back and the battle was joined, light and dark struggling for supremacy. 

"There's always hope." the being finally spoke, a light easy tone, "Sometimes its small and hard to find, but its always there. And sometimes...you ARE the hope. As long as there is a small point of hope, the rest will follow."

Veleth looked down. Two points of bright gold light were watching him from underneath the dark cowl. He felt courage well up in him, hope. He could tell that the being was pleased at that as the light grew brighter, swallowing him up. It took control of him, transporting him away from the battle of light and dark. He relaxed, feeling far more comforted and free from stress and anxiety in a way that he hadn't in a long long time. 

"Good. Now wake up."

XxXxXx

The first thing that registered in his worn out mind that was actually real was the smell: hackle-lo and leather. Odd, that was what his parents house smelled like: hackle-lo that his mother always kept on hand and the leather his father used for repairs. He wasn’t home though…had he died? He didn’t remember hearing anything about Azura’s realm having a smell that reminded a soul of an earthly home. 

“I think he’s starting to wake up.”

If there was one thing that could have startled him to full awareness, his father’s voice practically in his ear was it. Though, while his brain came back to near full speed, his body was far slower to respond. The only response he was able to elicit was twitching a few fingers. 

“Modyn, can you hear us?” Came the gentle, worry-laced voice of his mother.

Veleth really had to force himself to work. He managed to drag his eyes open but it took a monumental effort. His eyelids felt like they were made of stone and about as pliable. He found that if he concentrated on moving just one part of his body at a time he could just manage. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but slowly the figures of both his parents swam into focus. 

“Where am I?” he asked. Or rather, tried to ask. All that came out was a dry croak. 

“No, don’t speak.” His mother, Azura bless her soul, knew exactly what was on his mind, “You’re home. Dalin thought it prudent to bring you here rather than having to deal with the military getting upset over you two making the journey here without permission. He said you can handle that after you recover. I don’t know how you managed to make it that far without healing aid but you made it home just in time. You were…” her voice broke, eyes glassy with tears.

“You almost didn’t make it, boy.” Jorun picked up when his wife faltered, “You’ve been unconscious for the past week. There were a few moments when we thought you weren’t going to wake up.”

It was almost too much to take. A week? He had been out for a week solid?

“Enough. Don’t think on it. You have a lot more healing to do.” Jorun said, frowning. Veleth saw that he had been in far worse shape than he realized if his father was that worried. Jorun never openly showed worry. He faced everything with an unflappable sense of calm. When he did show any sense of worry or frustration, it meant things were in dire straights. “Your fever is finally starting to go down. Rest.”

Rest. That thought was definitely appealing. Just staying awake this long had been annoyingly exhausting. No sooner had that thought entered his mind than his body dropped him into sleep, lulled by the murmur of his parents’ approval. Mercifully, he didn’t dream this time.

XxXxXx

It took another full week before Veleth finally recovered the strength to drag himself up for an extended length of time. It was highly frustrating. He had been in the peak of physical condition and now he could barely push himself upright without panting for breath, his body desperately wanting to collapse back down and curl in a ball. It was frustrating, humiliating and, above all, maddening. He would wait until no one was around to stop him before stubbornly forcing himself to his feet, gripping the nearest piece of furniture so hard he would nearly leave gouges in an effort to ground himself against the intense waves of dizziness. He was careful not to over aggravate his injury though. He didn't want to pop the careful stitching holding his left side together and land himself back in bed. When the pain in his side reached a razor sharp pitch, he would concede defeat and lay back down. After a few days he found his persistence paying off as the spinning began to abate and he was able to take a few tentative steps. It was only to the end of the bed but it was improvement. He'd take it. 

"In many ways, your stubbornness is your greatest hinderance...but in all other ways, it's your greatest asset." Veleth looked up to see his father watching him, his expression unreadable. Veleth didn't say anything in reply, bracing himself for a rebuke while forming his argument at the same time. "Oh knock it off before I change my mind about it being helpful. Far better for you to be moving around rather than me devising ways to get you up."

Veleth relaxed, nearly losing his footing when he lost his concentration briefly, and readjusted his grip on the bedside table, "If I had to stay flat on my back one more day I was going to lose my damn mind."

"I understand. Been injured a few times in my day. C'mon, let's get out of this room for a bit before you do something stupid on your own." Veleth gratefully allowed his father to help him hobble out. He didn't care where they went, it was just a relief to be up and out of that room. Simply sitting down at the table made him feel more alive than he had in days. It was one more step away from that black hole he had been sliding into. One step, but a big one. One thing had been nagging at him and, now that it was just him and his father alone together, he felt the need to get it off his chest. 

“It took getting run through by a poisoned spear to figure out what you meant.” Veleth said bluntly, fixing his gaze at the table top. "When you said to be aware of my surroundings."

“Sometimes it takes something…drastic for some things to sink in.” Jorun said, “Though next time I would suggest finding another form of punishment…someplace closer and not quite so destructive. I hear getting kicked in the gut by a guar is less damaging.”

“Says the man who escaped nearly being mauled to death by an ogrim on Red Mountain by sheer luck.”

“At least I was on the other end of the spear.”

“Touche…”

"But I doubt you meant the spear."

"That spear hit me not because I wasn't aware of my enemies. I knew they were close by, I knew we were going to be in a fight. What I wasn't aware of was all the...other stuff."

"The subtle machinations of politics that are what really runs a war? That stuff?" Jorun watched his son carefully, "Ah, my boy, you've always hated the sneaky stuff."

"It's pointless."

"Spoken like a typical young, hot-headed idiot." His father never minced words. Veleth appreciated it at times but it could get annoying rather quickly, like right now. "It very much has its purpose in this world. Is it annoying dealing with politicians, rogues, assassins and and thieves? Very much so. But you're going to have to get over it. Morrowind runs on subtle manipulations, words hidden within words and, sometimes, not so covert assassinations. The Nerevarine even had to resort to more illegal steps in order to complete his task."

"Ai, by the GODS must you bring him up again?" Veleth groaned.

"He was far younger than you when he figured that out. You're behind." 

"You're being old again."

"And you a young idiot." Jorun smirked. Veleth sighed in exasperation. "In all seriousness though, you can hate the so-called sneaky stuff all you want, but the fact remains you should still learn it and learn it well. It's not just Morrowind that thrives on such things, but the world over." 

Veleth grunted. He heard his father's words but he couldn't accept them. Not yet. 

“Dalin was in rare form. Said something about half of Black Marsh coming at you.” Jorun smirked slightly, changing the subject. “Then went on a rant about the Safepoints, mages, healers and errand boys. Couldn’t make heads or tails of it but he had a lot to say about it.”

Veleth rolled his eyes. “Sounds about right. I came to to him bellowing at some poor kid. Fortunately everything around him was nailed down or things would have been flying again. As for the Argonians…they butchered those poor people and hung them from the trees. They knew we were going to be there and find them. We were baited then we were ambushed, I know we were. I just don’t know how they knew.”

"And we come full circle." Veleth looked up sharply. "More sneaky stuff is at play here, boy."

That was exactly what Veleth was afraid of. As his body healed, his mind was turned more towards what had happened in that swamp and what was going to happen now. All he knew was that it was nothing good. 

"You won't have to wait long to figure that out." Jorun said, reading his son's mind perfectly, "A letter came for you. Not a happy one I'm afraid. As soon as you can stand for an extended length of time, you are to report to Rootspire. Into the very den of sneaky stuff. Modyn, if there's one time that you need to heed my advice, this is it. Listen carefully to what they say. Not so that you can follow their instructions because most of what they say is utter shit, but because you need to be aware of what's going on. Something is happening and you are right in the center of it my boy."

That left one question: what horrible act had he committed against what daedra to deserve this?

XxXxXx

A/N: *pants* there. All 21 chapters thus far. I will post new chapters at the same time as I do on ff.net, which is decently frequent enough. However, I just got accepted into grad school (YAY!!!) so the 2-3 week updates might start to stretch out a bit.


	22. Veleth's Tale Part 3

Chapter 21

Veleth’s Story part 3

XxXxXx

4E 140 - Rootspire, Blacklight

Modyn Veleth stood perfectly at attention before the entire Redoran Council, ignoring the warning pangs of pain in his left side. It had been nearly two weeks since he had finally been able to stand and he had been pushing himself hard to gain his strength back. He wasn’t fully healed, not by a long shot, something that a military appointed healer had been quick to point out as soon as he had walked into Rootspire, but he was trying to out-stubborn the lingering pain. So far it seemed to be working, which was a good thing considering he had been standing at full attention for over an hour now and the angry scar over his left kidney was getting even more aggravated. 

"So...the mission failed." The cold voice of Archmaster Remoran echoed harshly in the otherwise silent council chamber.

Veleth clenched his jaw so hard he was sure his teeth would shatter as his stomach roiled in anger but he kept his protests to himself. He had not been given the floor to speak and he doubted that he would anytime soon. When his father had handed him a letter requesting his presence at Rootspire to be questioned about his most recent mission, he knew it was going to be bad. This wasn’t just bad…this was a remonstration, a royal ass chewing where he wasn’t going to be able to defend himself. He was just going to have to take it and walk out with the tattered remains of his dignity…if they let him walk out with that much. 

"You were told to find the group of refugees south of Narsis and escort them to Safepoint Stros. A simple escort with more than enough men, seasoned warriors I might add, to be able to get the job done. Yet somehow, more than half of your unit now lays dead in a swamp and not a single civilian made it out alive.” 

Veleth's felt his throat clench. The archmaster was making it sound like he didn’t know the death toll. He knew it well. He had the entire list memorized, could see their faces in his nightmares at night. He had yet to get a solid night’s sleep since that terrible day. Every night there were dead mer hanging from trees, their rotted flesh sliding off bones like rancid fruit and dead soldiers as far as the eye could see, their clouded, glassy eyes staring accusingly at him, blaming him for leading them to their deaths. 

"Out with it. I wish to hear your explanation."

Veleth took a deep breath to steady himself, trying to get the images of his nightmares out of his mind. "We hadn't even reached the designated pick-up point when we smelled death. It was extremely strong and I just had a horrible feeling about it so I made the decision to go investigate. We came across a clearing and found every single one of the refugees. They were all dead, had been dead for a while by the look and smell of them, and had been hung from the trees. This wasn’t a case of dying of exposure...they had all been killed. I ordered my men to cut them all down. We would hold a quick a funeral as we could afford for them and then report back. I knew whoever had killed them wouldn’t be that far away but I couldn’t just leave the bodies there."

"So you traded the lives of your men for a handful of dead refugees."

His head spun. Did he just hear them right? "My men were all of the same mind. We couldn't just leave them there, even if they were already dead. Each man with me knew the dangers of what we were doing, the perils of the area. None of us could walk away from that."

"You were not sent to play hero…or gravedigger."

"We were sent to save Morrowind! Those people were a part of Morrowind! We are Dunmer, we don't abandon our people like the Imperials abandoned us. What are we if not here to save those that need it? There were women and children there, who had begged for help. We were too late, there was no way we could have been there on time but only a heartless bastard would have turned away and left them hanging there." He found he was panting for breath when he stopped speaking, his hands clenched to keep from shaking from anger. He could see that his little speech had had no affect on the councilors. They didn't care. He had failed a mission. That was all they saw, that was all they cared about. Suddenly Veleth was struck with a feeling of frustrated hopelessness. Why was he even fighting if the councilors were only interested in their own agendas? 

"So, what to do with such a heroic mer?"

"Archmaster, I will say on the commander's behalf that he refused his rotations off. He's been out there for years." An aide spoke up, a petite Breton woman, shuffling through a pile of papers Veleth could only assume contained his career records. The pile was a lot larger than he thought. 

"So a heroic mer who at least knows how to work hard." The elderly councilor looked hard at Veleth, frowning, "And that injury?"

"The healer that looked him over before he came in here recommended he not go back into the field for at least a year. Lighter duty is fine but nothing to aggravate it...away from a healer at least." The woman shuffled through the papers with an impressive amount of speed, somehow staying organized even as the pile became more and more disorganized. “Most recommended would be desk duty for now.” 

Veleth allowed his annoyance at being talked about like he was no longer there to chase away the broken black hole of despair that were threatening to overwhelm him. Why did they have to bring up the injury? He had been able to ignore it thus far but now it was starting to get to him. Sweat ran down his back in rivulets from the strain. The last thing he wanted to do was collapse in front of the entire Redoran Council. 

"I see." the archmaster looked over a few pieces of paper that his aide handed him. "Seems the remainder of your men speak very highly of you, Commander Veleth. Well, in light of..." he trailed off as the door banged open and an imposing figure strode in, brushing off another aide who was trying to stop him from entering, “You’re late, general.”

"My apologies, Archmaster Ramoran. Had a few pressing matters to attend to." General Relas strode in and stood next to Veleth, giving him a brief nod, "I'll just jump right in then, seeing as how things are already in session. In regards to the commander here, I'm going to ask for you to dismiss any notion of punishment. That is what you had in mind, yes?"

"On what grounds?" Ramoran asked, a tic starting to develop in his eye. Veleth stood a bit straighter, feeling a bit more hopeful. At least someone seemed to be on his side. 

"He followed orders."

"What orders?" Archmaster Ramoran looked like he desperately wanted to jump over his desk and throttle the general standing in front of him.

"Mine. Which, seeing as how he's a soldier under MY command, my orders trump yours or any other councilors. Yes, I know about the other set of orders, which is the whole reason why he’s even in here in the first place even if you won’t actually mention it. Anyway, Veleth was following orders but other...events conspired. Things that we will discuss at length later. In private. For now let's just say that the commander was the victim of faulty findings and improvised the best he could under the circumstances, which, unfortunately, resulted in casualties. The kid still led his boys home, despite nearly killing himself along the way. Generally I prefer my soldiers to show a bit more self-preservation but you can’t get too upset at a man who is willing to show that much dedication to his men and to his people. On those grounds, I dismiss any and all charges."

"You're a pain in the ass to work with, Relas." Ramoran groused, "So what, exactly, do you propose to do with him? He can't return to your command, not with that injury."

Veleth's stomach clenched. Suddenly it no longer mattered whether he was here or not. He felt like a child who had been sent to a corner to think about what he had done while the parents discussed his punishment in the next room. The only difference was that whatever punishments his parents had dished out in his childhood for his various infractions had never been so life shattering. 

"I have an idea."

"This better be good Relas." Ramoran narrowed his eyes, “Or I will not hesitate to kick your ass right out of here and knock both you and Veleth down to cleaning guar pens for the rest of your lives.”

"Oh it is." In spite of his tone the general didn't look overly happy which made Veleth's stomach plummet. Whatever it was it couldn't be good. "Raven Rock."

"You're joking."

"They need a captain of the guard who can actually do his job without getting killed after a month. Those guards are next to worthless and bandits are continually assaulting the town. Oh, and Morvayn had that fun little incident with Hlaalu assassins, remember? I can't think of anyone better for the job than this stubborn kid who apparently doesn’t know what time off means."

"Yes, I'm sure Morvayn will love the insult of sending him a broken mer."

"He's not permanently broken. I spoke with the healer before I got here." Relas sounded a bit smug. “In a month he should be perfectly fine to ship off. They got a healer there to take care of whatever might happen to him after that.”

"Fine. We'll send his record along with a letter of recommendation. If he accepts, then Veleth will become in charge of the guard in Raven Rock and all notion of punishment will be off the table. I would think going to Raven Rock is punishment enough."

"Good. I'll have my assistant send along his current record as well as a recommendation of my own to your office." the general nodded, "Archmaster, as always, it's been a pleasure to be a pain in the ass. Veleth, walk with me."

Breathing shallowly to keep the pain at a reasonable level, Veleth followed General Relas out of the council chambers, more than happy to be away from the councilors who looked like wolves just denied a kill. 

"And that, kid, is how you tell a bunch of councilors to shove it."

"Sir?"

"Welcome to politics." Relas said, turning to face him once they were fully out in the sunshine. "Now, I put you on the spot in there but this job is a bit more than it seems. Think of it as my last assignment to you for the time being. I have every bit of faith that you will be able to handle this one."

"Raven Rock? Isn't that where the ebony mines are?"

"Yeah, nice little resource hole. Morvayn's pet project he inherited from his mother. Not a fun vacation though. That island is dangerous. If the fauna don’t kill you the locals just might. You won't be bored there. Good thing you don’t like taking time off. No such thing like that in Solstheim." Veleth nodded, his head spinning a bit as he listened to the general. "You'll do fine there, you’re stubborn enough to outlast the whole place. However, that island WILL knock that temper out of you. Hopefully at least." the general eyed him sideways, "While you look much better than the last time I saw you, you WILL be an insult to Raven Rock in your current state. Actually make use of your time off to rest for once. You'll need it for Solstheim. Dismissed...and good luck."

"Sir, wait...what happened back in Narsis? The things you said back in Rootspire..."

"For now, forget it. What I know won't change what happened nor does it concern you. When you get back from your time in Solstheim...maybe then we'll talk." Relas turned to leave but hesitated, “If I were you, I’d be very careful in handing out trust.”

Veleth was left standing in the middle of the district, his mind reeling and his body threatening to give out. This was a bit much to take in all at once. A…promotion? Demotion? What was he supposed to make of Raven Rock? SOMETHING happened in Narsis but he wasn’t supposed to know? And what was with that cryptic message about trust? He had no idea how long he stood there in the square, absently watching soldiers, aides and civilians alike go on about their business in various degrees of urgency. He was struggling very hard to make sense out of everything but neither his mind nor his body were willing to obey his commands.

"Need a lift?" 

Veleth jumped and spun to see R'is sitting on a horse behind him, smirking at the very rare occasion of catching his friend unawares.

"What are you still doing here?" Veleth demanded, "Please tell me you didn't steal another horse. I had a hard enough time bailing you out the last time you claimed to have borrowed a horse."

"Unlike you, some of us actually take our rotations off." R'is grinned, "And no. She's borrowed. Actually borrowed. She belongs to…you know what, let’s not go into that. Come on, you look like you're going to pass out."

Veleth gratefully took the proffered hand and, with a little effort, settled behind the saddle. He managed to bite back the grunt of pain, purely out of pride. R'is was more than aware of how bad he hurt but that didn’t mean he wanted to put voice to it. He wanted to salvage what was left of his pride and dignity. 

"Where to?" R’is said, not commenting on it at all, something Veleth was grateful for. 

"Military justice building.” Veleth said shortly, trying to find his balance. It was never easy balancing behind a saddle. 

"Right." R'is turned the horse towards the military district, "How did it go?"

"You're going back without me."

"I knew that."

"Longer. I got reassigned."

"What? Why? To where?" R’is demanded, looking over his shoulder. 

"Too much damage. I can't take the field for a while. Plus they were none too thrilled with what happened."

"What?! But you..."

"Yeah I know. It is what it is.” Veleth sighed, not really wanting to relive the council meeting, “My new job is Captain of the Guard in Raven Rock."

"RAVEN ROCK?" the horse shied a little at R'is' outburst, causing Veleth to grunt as he nearly slid off the rounded hindquarters. He really had no handhold beyond his only balance and strength, which was waning fast. "That's a...that's worse than a demotion! Only those they want gone go to Raven Rock!"

"Thank you for screaming out what I already know to the entire district..." Veleth said flatly, shooting a glare at a gawking boy, sending him running down the street. 

"Sorry but damn Modyn." R'is frowned, "I thought they'd go easy on you."

"Apparently not." Veleth said, exhausted suddenly. He was so tired of this so-called game. He never wanted to be a player in it in the first place but it seemed to suck him in. Now he was…here. 

"Well, don't let it get to you. Go in like a stubborn hurricane, clean up the place, serve your time then get your ass back here so we can go out and cause more trouble. Or so you can come get me out of trouble." R'is glanced over his shoulder at him, "That injury aint permanent, right?"

"It's not."

R'is pulled the horse up in front of the military justice building, "I'll be in Blacklight for a while. For once I'm going to make sure you actually take your time off, though all I have to do really is tell your mother."

Veleth slid off the horse, contemplating slapping the mare on the rump as hard as he could to send her running off. “Get out of here. I’ll look for you later this week.”

“Don’t stay here too long or I really will tell your mother.”

Veleth gave him a flat look…then slapped the mare as hard as he could on the rump, sending her running off down the street. He allowed a self-satisfied smirk to creep across his face as he entered the building when R’is yelp of surprise reached his ears. He didn’t look back but he really hoped that he was clinging to the side of the saddle.

"I heard you were “nominated” for the watch position in Solstheim." his father said by way of greeting as Veleth dropped gracelessly into a chair, not looking up from the mountain of paperwork that never seemed to get smaller. 

"I just left Rootspire." Veleth groused irritably, "How fast is that wonderful news spreading?"

"Solstheim generally makes for good gossip fodder." Jorun glanced up at him, “You are also underestimating bored aides and how fast they can move when they have something to talk about.”

Veleth sighed, reading between the lines; his father had someone listening in as he couldn’t be there himself. While he understood WHY it rankled him more than a little; he was now the scuttlebutt of the entire military in Blacklight. Who knew how far it would spread. Kogo? Xyr even? Someone might as well send notice to Firewatch at this rate.

"Solstheim is a nasty place. You'll stay busy." Jorun brought his son out of his dark brooding, echoing General Relas, "There are worse assignments."

"I'll be damned if I can think of one right now." 

"Mine guard." 

"Ok, you got me on that one."

"Salt mine."

Veleth made a face, "That's not employment. That's imprisonment."

"Usually hard to breath down there."

"I get it!"

"Don't look at this assignment as a bad thing." Jorun said, dropping his file on his desk, "Look at this as a way to gain new experience. The more knowledge you have, the more effective you'll be in any situation. And you’ll know for future reference that not completing a politician’s side projects lands you in trouble."

"I can take the typical parental response as long as you don't break out into a Nerevarine story." Veleth tried to bite back a cringe.

"Oh I very easily can."

"Please don't."

Jorun snorted in amusement but took pity on his already aggravated son, "How's your side?"

"Standing at attention for that long did it no favors." Veleth said, not willing to admit out loud that the pain was starting to toe at the threshold of his considerable pain tolerance. He’d be able to make it home but anything more than that would finally break him and leave him curled in a ball of agony for a day or so. "I'm still not cleared for duty."

"Not surprised, considering not long ago you were nearly dead. That wound was bad but the infection AND the poison?"

"Yeah, great."

"Give it time." Jorun advised his stubborn son, "You’ve recovered a lot in a remarkably short time for an injury of that magnitude. But of course it’s still not fast enough, is it? Stubborn boy. Now get out. I got work to do. Go home before your mother gets mad at both of us. Or before she hears about your new job from a source other than you."

Veleth practically scrambled from the room at that. 

XxXxXx

Raven Rock, Solstheim 

Councilor Lleril Morvayn sighed as he looked over the massive pile of documents and letters he had received from the mainland. He tried to remind himself that seeing this many meant he was still high in favor and use with the council and Raven Rock was not a useless outpost. Not yet anyway. There were concerns but that was not something to worry over at this exact moment. He needed to get through this mountain of mail first. As he sorted through the documents a letter fell out. Curious, he picked it up. It wasn’t like the other official letters that bespoke of basically nothing. It had an official seal on it but not that of a councilor. 

"Adril, come take a look at this.” He sat back, motioning his friend and advisor over, “This is from one of the safepoint generals.”

“The seal of Stros.” Adril said, taking a closer look at the seal, “General Relas I believe is the man in charge there.”

Morvayn broke the seal and quickly scanned over the letter. He started and looked up at the second councilor. “Listen to this Adril; "Councilor Morvayn, I am requesting that you seriously consider this soldier, one Commander Modyn Veleth, to be your Captain of the Guard. He is one of my best soldiers; one that I am loath to lose in the ranks but a recent injury has prompted his removal from the front lines in southern Morrowind. He should be healed up enough to perform all duties required to lead the Redoran Guard. 

That's the formal request I was told to make. Informally Veleth is a stubborn, hotheaded kid who got himself tangled in something that none of us fully understand yet. That is the only reason I'm letting him go from my ranks to yours. The kid is blunt as a brick, hates political intrigue and has a temper to match that of a bull kagoti in a rut. However, there's not a more dedicated soldier in my ranks. You tell the kid to get something done and it's ridiculous how well and how fast he'll do it. He will walk through Oblivion barefoot for his men and the people under his protection. It's proven detrimental to his own health how stubbornly determined he is. Until this last fateful mission he has never failed me in anything I have set him to. Until I solve this tangle which I cannot put in writing, he needs to be out of the way and what better place to utilize his skills than whipping those fetchers you have into shape? I'm willing to bet my rank he will have them working like a seasoned unit within a week. 

-General Relas"

"Wait...did that say Veleth?"

"It did. Must be the old armiger's son." Morvayn put the letter on his desk and leaned back, steepling his fingers, "That does not bother me over much. I've met Jorun before. Like everyone else I thought he was crazy when he looked at me and said that I should consider going inside that it would rain soon. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. An hour later it was pouring rain. Mer is only crazy if you look at the surface. Get to know him and you realize he knows FAR more than he lets on. Most of the time I think he secretly enjoys everyone underestimating him. If his son has even a fraction of intuition he has then we might have a deal here. Hmm, if General Relas wrote then there might be something from the council in this mess."

Adril dug through the pile of scrolls and pulled out the one from Archmaster Ramoran and scanned over it, "Lleril, the Archmaster has stated that this injury was...by Azura how is this mer even alive?"

"How bad?"

"He was run through with a poisoned spear in the middle of nowhere. He went without healing aid for over a week." Adril grimaced a little, "He was injured down by Narsis, was taken to Stros and made a last ditch effort ride to Blacklight. He didn't do it alone but by the gods...half that journey should have killed him."

"Tough kid."

"That's another point I wanted to mention; going by his record he's barely out of adolescence!"

"Yet he's a commander."

"He's a child still. An injured one who is the son of the province's nut!"

"He's young, which means he has the energy and drive to gain some measure of control over Solstheim. He got injured severely but survived, meaning he's tough enough to survive whatever this island throws at him. He's a commander, which means he knows what he's doing with equally stubborn obstinate fools. As for his breeding...I already made my point there."

"I'm not going to convince you otherwise, am I?

"Not at all, Adril."

“Why?”

“Veleth’s father was the first supporter of the Nerevarine, even sacrificing his job as an Ordinator in favor of his friendship with an outlander who everyone considered a dangerous heretic.” Morvayn tapped his fingers again, “We all thought he was crazy then. Then they both go and prove the whole world wrong. That was a powerful lesson that I learned then. Since then, I’ve tried to never judge based on outward actions and appearances, and I’m especially going to apply it this mer. If General Relas says this man can make a difference here, then we will give him a chance to clean this place up.”

"Shall I send word to the Archmaster that we are most... pleased to accept this commander?"

"Captain now, and yes."

XxXxXx

4E 140, 26th Last Seed

Veleth watched as Blacklight disappeared over the horizon, a slight pang of…something he couldn’t quite identify in his chest. How was this any different than being deployed to southern Morrowind? This was just another deployment, just going in the opposite direction. The wrong direction. 

Wrong. Everything about this was wrong. 

He sighed and turned his attention away from the receding shoreline, instead allowing himself to become distracted by the unfamiliar feel of the necklace around his neck. His mother had not been the least bit thrilled that he had been due to leave on this day in particular. To Veleth it was just another day but, to his great surprise, even his father insisted that at least some acknowledgment be made to his fiftieth birthday. Thus the pendent that was currently hidden under his armor. He pulled it out and looked it over. It was a simple metal pendent with the multi-armed star of Azura carved into it and inlaid with a lighter colored metal that caught the light and reflected it brightly. He clenched it tightly in his hand, feeling the engraved star leave an imprint on his palm. As much as he normally disliked celebrating his birthday in anyway, he truly appreciated this gift. It wasn’t about his birthday or his leaving. To him, it represented that at least a small handful of people still believed in him. That meant more to him than anything as he headed off to the unknown. 

“With this wind we should dock at Raven Rock in a few days, commander.” One of the sailors said, breaking him out of his reverie. Veleth didn’t bother to correct him. Right now he was neither a commander nor a captain. He watched the waves lap against the side of the boat. It was going to be a long few days. 

XxXxXx

4E 140, 30th Last Seed – Raven Rock, Solstheim

Councilor Lleril Morvayn watched as Raven Rock's new captain disembarked off the ship from Morrowind, critically assessing him as he walked down the dock. Modyn Veleth was a tall, powerfully built mer, more like a bull than the more lithe frame of most elven kind, just as General Relas described him. Despite being previously injured, he gave no indication of it whatsoever in his movements. While pleased that his new captain was physically imposing, something he would undoubtedly need to rely on out here, it was the mer's eyes that really caught his attention. There was that resignation there, of course, that everyone had when they first arrived to Solstheim but it was over-shadowed by a glint of stubborn determination that spilled out onto the rest of his face, setting his jaw tight and his brow in a hard line. That was something Morvayn was highly pleased with.

"Adril." He said, motioning to his friend and advisor, "Why don't you show our new captain around, get to know him a bit?"

"In other words, you want me to get read on this one?" Adril came up next to him.

"I can already tell this one is different." Morvayn said, "His eyes alone are telling me he'd take on the whole island on his own if we so asked it of him...if he believes we have a good enough reason."

" ‘A good enough reason’?" Adril quirked an eyebrow up at that, “What is that supposed to mean?”

"I'm willing to bet the councilors back in the Rootspire tried to tear him apart but by the way he’s still standing tall, they failed to fully break him." Morvayn tapped his fingers, not fully explaining himself. "I'm starting to think General Relas was on to something about this one. Get to know him, show him around, and then introduce him to his men. Then come tell me how everything goes."

"Of course, Lleril." Adril hesitated before he moved away, "Anything in particular you want me to look out for?"

"No. I'm just curious how this one will react is all." Morvayn tapped his fingers, “Oh, and don’t stop him once he gets going. I’m curious to see just what he’ll do.”

XxXxXx

Veleth looked around. Raven Rock was about as nondescript as a town could get. The entire town was all one color, the color of grayish red ash. It wasn’t very large; he could see the entire town from where he was standing at the docks. Already his mind was memorizing the layout of the town, noting places where people seemed to be heavily congregating, places where people seemed the most or least comfortable being and, most of all, the glaring lack of guard. In fact, he didn’t see any at all. That would be the first thing to change. He already had 5 different patrol routes mapped out. All he needed was men walking them.

“Ah you must be our new captain.” Veleth looked up to see a serious looking Dunmer addressing him, “I’m Adril Arano, Second Councilor to Councilor Morvayn. Welcome to Raven Rock.” Veleth nodded politely, “Come, I’ll show you around.”

He followed the second councilor around, adding names of notable landmarks to his mental map of the town; The Retching Netch, the ebony mines, the market place, Morvayn Manor, the temple and the Bulwark. Despite the bland color of the town and the ever-present danger, the surprisingly large population was rather upbeat and positive. Dunmer mingled easily with the smattering of humans and the occasional Orc, Bosmer and Altmer, far easier than they did in Blacklight where relationships were still a bit strained. 

"The East Empire Company has a big presence here. They are annoying to deal with but a necessary evil." Adril frowned, "They've been pulling back recently. Things aren't as prominent as they used to be. Not sure exactly why but that’s another problem for another day."

Veleth thought back to the villages that had been burned and broken to the ground, to the times they camped in such ruins for the camouflage and wondered 'who died here?' while they tried to get what sleep they could. He thought back to the constant underlying fear that every time they closed their eyes they might never open them again for fear that something might sneak up and kill them in their sleep. The complaints Adril had over dealing with an annoying trading company were clashing horribly with the complaints his men used to have. 

"At least there's no swamps..." he muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I said at least it's not a swamp." he said, "Ash is a lot easier to deal with than standing fetid water."

"Ah, that's right, you fought against Argonians in southern Morrowind." Adril nodded, "Until you got injured, correct?"

"Correct." he said, his side giving a warning throb.

"You were a commander…you’re rather young for a commander aren’t you?”

“I was born into a soldier’s life, thanks to my father. I spent my whole life preparing and training to be a soldier. By the time I was old enough to join the Redoran Army I already had combat experience and could lead a small unit.” Veleth struggled to keep his tone neutral. “My age was never an issue.”

Adril said nothing and continued the tour. After a while Veleth finally found the opportunity to ask the questions that he had been trying, and failing, to find the answers to since before he left Blacklight. 

"What happened to the last captain?"

"Did no one brief you?" Adril asked incredulously, "He got careless and became reaver bait. That’s the barebones of it. There were a myriad of other problems we had with him so when I got word that the reavers had his head on a pike outside one of their camps I wasn’t overly surprised."

"Reavers?" 

"What we call the bandits out here. Traitors one and all. I’d rather have to deal with rogue Ashlanders to be honest. What DID they tell you about Solstheim?"

"That if the fauna and flora don't kill you, the locals will." Veleth paraphrased, carefully avoiding saying he was told next to nothing, as this was a punishment assignment. He was more than well aware that none of the councilors who sent him had bothered to brief him. It was a snub. They were still sore over Relas stepping in and by not giving Veleth information he needed to know and making him sound like an uninformed fool, they were getting a small form of petty revenge. One more reason Veleth was glad there was only the one councilor and his advisor here to deal with. 

"That's true enough." Adril begrudgingly agreed, "The last man didn't have your extensive training but he did have years on you."

Veleth frowned. Again there was that dig at his age. "Age can mean nothing. There are many mer my age with just as many years in the field as I do. Reversely, I know mer double or triple my age who have never lifted a weapon and never SHOULD. If there's going to be an issue with my age, let's have it out." 

Adril held up his hands, "Even you have to admit you would have reservations on soldier who has just seen his first half century."

"I judge on attitude. I don't care how young or old they are."

"While a good philosophy to run by, practicality gets in the way."

"Never has in my squads. There's no perfect age to be a soldier. Quit treating them like kids or old men and start rewarding their hard work and suddenly you can't tell who is too young, too old or in the prime of their lives." Veleth twisted his jaw introspectively, "I will say this though...it’s the old guys that generally make the best fighters. They get cranky on long marches and quit taking shit at that point. Most enemies end up trying to scramble away from them. Killing things makes them happier and less likely to snap at me later."

"Unfortunately, these aren't like the men you are used to." Adril said quietly as they approached the Bulwark, "I'm afraid you'll have your work cut out for you with this lot. We don’t get the best or the brightest sent out here. Most were sent here as a form of punishment…much like you I’m afraid.” Veleth shot him a look. “I’m more than well aware of the Redoran Council’s tactics. However, I also respect Councilor Morvayn’s intuition. He seems to think that the council threw away a gem to spite the mine owner, so to speak. I have a few reservations myself but there’s no denying that we are in desperate need of someone to take control of the guard.”

“Give me ten minutes with them.” Veleth said, reining in his temper at the veiled insults, “I’ll be able to tell you if there’s the slightest chance these fetchers will make passable guard.” 

Leaving the surprised second councilor behind he strode over to where the guard was milling about, waiting to be introduced to their new captain. They glanced up at him but not a single one offered up the slightest bit of acknowledgement or respect. He was unsurprised but a bit dismayed by how wildly unorganized, undisciplined and unenthused the guard was. He knew going in that it was bad but this was a whole new level of bad. Veleth wasn’t a mer who demanded everything be polished to a perfect shine, that was about as impractical as a soldier could get, but he did have a problem with the blunt weapons and cracked armor he was seeing. That was something that would get soldiers killed in the most innocuous situation. He briefly flipped through files he had been handed early on in the tour as he watched men slouch around not really doing much out of the corner of his eye. For the most part these weren't a bad bunch. Most had clean records with fairly nice recommendations. A few were sent here as punishment but so far his infraction was by far the worst. He huffed as he tossed the records on the ground behind him. So it wasn't the men...it was their leader. They had been running under an incompetent captain for so long they were completely uninspired and weren’t likely to easily take to anyone. He had one shot at making an impression on this crew and he had to make it count. He wouldn't get another. 

“Stand at attention!” He barked, mentally preparing himself to bite back a cringe at the slow response time and the less than sharp stances. He wasn’t disappointed. “My name is Modyn Veleth. I’m your new captain and…”

“Veleth? Ain’t that the insane Nerevarine loving s’wit?” One guard interrupted. Sareloth, if Veleth remembered from the files. Perfectly clean record, had even volunteered for this post. Now reduced to this. He smirked as the other guards sniggered like fools, “Wait, or are you his spawn?” 

Veleth took a deep breath and mentally counted down from three. Then he punched Sareloth full in the mouth, sending him reeling backwards. Wasting no time, he quickly kicked the mer's legs out from under him and followed him to the ground, pinning him face first into the ash-covered ground with a knee to the middle of the back. Veleth pulled his dagger from his boot and yanked the man's head up by the hair and pressed the dagger against his throat. 

"I don't care what you lot decide to call me behind my back. Believe me, I've heard it all." He said in a perfectly calm controlled voice to the line of now terrified guard, "However, I will NOT stand for any sort of blatant disrespect. When I call you in, you will be here, at perfect attention and it's 'yes sir' or 'no sir' and nothing else unless I ask for it. You will be polite and respectful to every civilian in this town no matter how mean or nasty they decide to get and when I send you out on a job it will be done thoroughly and professionally or else you will have to answer to me. You really don't want to have to answer to me. You will wish every creature or monster or reaver on this island is after you first before you have to answer to me." He pressed the dagger harder against the throat, eliciting a few drops of blood and a whine from his unfortunate hostage, "This place is not Blacklight. It's not Necrom, hell it's not even Kogo! This place is wild and dangerous, more so than any place I have ever seen. If you want cozy and comfortable I will send you back home on the next ship...in a prisoner hold for insubordination and you can clean up shit at the Safepoints for the rest of your life. Your other option is to follow my orders and survive long enough to go home to a nice retirement." He let Sareloth go and stood up, dragging the man to his feet. Then he gave the confused mer a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I'm not here to beat you into submission but if I have to knock sense into each and every one of you I will. I'm here to protect this town and keep you alive while turning you into some of the best guard House Redoran has ever seen. So? What's it going to be? Hurry it up, I'm not exactly known for my patience." 

Ever mer stood up straight and immediately saluted, but none more sharply than Sareloth. He smiled. "Good. Now go get your weapons and armor ready. All I see are sorry excuses of metal. We'll go over the new patrol routes once you get yourselves something that can actually do some damage and protect your sorry hides. I expect all of you back here in fifteen minutes."

He watched as they instantly jumped to it, pleased at the new respect even if it was born of fear for now. Later, it would blossom into true respect. He had merely planted the seeds. He rubbed at his side with a pained grunt. He might be in pain for the next week for that little stunt, but he had made exactly the impression he wanted to. They were his now. This might be the death of his left kidney but after all the work he was about to put into them they would turn out to be some of the best. All in all, he was pleased. 

“Second Councilor Arano.” He said out loud, not looking over to where he knew the advisor was watching; “You can tell Councilor Morvayn that I’ll give him a guard worthy of Mournhold in its prime within a month.”

XxXxXx

4E 150

Veleth was returning from his final patrol of the night, his path lit by the light of Masser and Secunda. He had slowly adapted to his new home over the course of the years; his lungs no longer bubbled in his chest with every ash-laden breath and his voice took on the slightly rougher edge that marked him as a dweller of this unforgiving environment. More importantly, in his opinion, he had turned the guard of Raven Rock into a well oiled machine who behaved professionally and could handle just about anything this island threw at them. He was very proud of how well they had turned out and they, in turn, worked hard for him. Granted there were casualties, that was just the nature of such a dangerous job, but he made sure to honor every man they lost by carving their names into a large boulder outside the Bulwark gates, signifying their sacrifice while protecting Raven Rock. 

“Ah Veleth, out late again?”

Veleth looked up and saw Councilor Morvayn walking towards his manor, undoubtedly returning from the Retching Netch. “Sir.” He greeted politely, “Just finishing up my final patrol for the night.”

“I swear you run on less sleep than I do.” Morvayn smiled, “Ah, before I forget, there’s something I wished to discuss with you.”

“Sir?” Veleth followed him inside the manor, a little confused and curious all at the same time. There wasn’t anything pressing at the moment that he could think of that couldn’t wait until morning. 

“I hate to bring this up now so late at night but I have to admit that it’s already slipped my mind twice this past week and when I saw you I knew I needed to bring it up now or I would forget again.” Morvayn explained as he went over to his desk and began to rummage in a drawer, “To be honest it’s really not something I want to bring up but there’s no getting around it.”

Veleth patiently waited, trying not to yawn. He still couldn’t figure out what was so damn important. 

"You've been here for 10 years now." Morvayn held up a scroll. Veleth started a little, suddenly wide-awake. Had it really been a decade already? "You've served your time here and more than adequately. However the deal was after 10 years you were to be reassigned back to the main body of the Redoran Militia. I'll write to Blacklight, have you transferred home. With a glowing review I might add."

Veleth hesitated, "If it's at all possible, councilor…I'd like to extend my contract."

"Really?"

"I'm considered damaged goods to everyone back on the mainland. I do not want to be stuck doing meaningless tasks. Here I'm doing something that is actually helping people."

"Well I'm certainly not going to dissuade you. You are arguably the most effective captain we've ever had here. The guard has never been sharper and you've lowered the death rate by 63%. All the same, are you sure this is what you want?"

Veleth thought back to the council he had been forced to face years ago. He remembered the looks on their faces, the disregard for life and the frustration and disgust over his decision to do the morally right thing rather than what they wanted him to do. They had sent him to Solstheim, probably hoping he would get himself killed and then never have to worry about this "misfortune" ever again. He had been proud to fight, foolishly believing that he was fighting for his home and his people. He had never once intended on being a tool. Here, in this out-flung little town set in one of the most dangerous remote places he could think of, those virtues were so appreciated that everyone tended to go a bit out of their way to make sure he could keep on doing what he was doing. He had to admit to himself, very privately and within the confines of his own mind, that it was rather nice to be appreciated like this. He knew his duty was to go back home and...do whatever it was they decided an insubordinate injured mer like him could do but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving the tough people of Raven Rock. Damn duty. Damn the Redoran councilors in Blacklight and damn being forced to choose between the lives of innocents and a councilor's desires. 

"I'm sure."

XxXxXx

A/N: This concludes Veleth's tale. I swear I thought it was going to kill me. I had intended to post before Christmas but between getting stuff squared away for school, absolute last second Christmas shopping and me suddenly having to bring not just two dogs but three horses with me across Texas for Christmas...yeah there wasn't a lot of dedicated writing time. Then I came home and great gravy writer's block batman! This one was a bear to get rid of too. Then the flash drive I save my files on corrupted this chapter and I panicked thinking I was going to have to start over (I can't STAND that) so I rage-quit for a few days until I realized it somehow got saved to my desktop. Then I hit writer's block again...And school started up amidst a torrential downpour/marble sized hailstorm. I feel like someone shoved Truefire through my brain and lit it up. So enjoy this nice long chapter as an apology for taking forever and a day and next chapter we will get back to Nevano. He’s had enough time off. Time to go back to work.


	23. Old Friends

Chapter 22

Old Friends

XxXxXx

4E 201 – Raven Rock, Solstheim

It was well past sundown when Veleth finally finished his story and left to complete one more patrol for the night. Or two. Nevano saw the look on his face as he left. He hadn't had to think about his past for a while now and it obviously brought up memories he’d rather have forgotten. Nevano could relate. He sighed and got a bottle of sujamma and a bottle of greef to make some shots while he mulled over everything he had just been told. 

"Those are...some pretty strong shots."

Nevano looked up to see the same Dunmer woman he had seen crying in the corner on his first day there. If he wasn't mistaken, she had some sort of relationship with Veleth. He had to admit his new friend had pretty good taste. 

"That was the point." Nevano said with a small smile, "It's not a good drink unless it tries to burn the lining of your stomach off…or kills your liver. Whichever comes first."

"I have to admit that's the first time I've heard that before." She blinked. “Especially from someone I usually see sober.”

"Most don't have the same preference I do...or tolerance." Nevano tossed a shot back, "My apologies. My name is Nevano. I know I’ve seen you around but never had the opportunity to introduce myself."

"Dreyla Alor." She finally smiled fully and it transformed her face into something radiant. Yup, Veleth definitely had good taste, "I think you're the stranger I have to thank for getting Modyn back home in mostly one piece."

Nevano slid her a shot, "Careful downing that. You’re welcome but he's a tough enough mer that he would have made it back on his own without my help. I just made things easier on him."

Dreyla carefully sipped at the shot, trying her hardest to not cough at the strong liquor, "Oh, that’s…that’s really strong. I heard him tell you how he got here. He doesn't tell many that story. There are a fair few who were here when he arrived but most don’t know all the rest. Some of it he’s not overly fond of."

"I don't think he fully realizes it wasn't his fault."

"He did the best he could in that swamp. He wanted to save his men."

"Not what I meant. Yes, you’re correct and I agree with that whole-heartedly but what I meant was that he was used as a pawn. He didn't see it then and his disdain for the intrigue game prevents him from seeing it now."

"What?"

"Ah, don't worry. Just me rambling."

"How did you get that from his story?"

"Not the first time I've heard a story that ran along those lines." Nevano tossed back another shot, enjoying the feeling of fire sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach in a pool of fiery heat. "A strong warrior, single-mindedly determined to save everyone he has sworn to protect, loyal above all else and disdainful of politics? Veleth isn't the first and certainly won't be the last. His greatest strength left him vulnerable to those with less than honorable intentions. Personally there are not enough mer out there like him and far too many of the other kind."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I can see that you care for him a great deal and behind every warrior there should be someone who is there for them. Someone who loves them. That love is what keeps us fighters from becoming monsters. Something pure to beat back the beast, so to speak." Nevano drained the last of his drinks, "Don't worry. Whatever is coming isn't going to happen right this second."

"You're pretty insightful for a kid." Dreyla still sounded doubtful but when she looked up and met his eyes, Nevano knew that his words had sunk in and rang as true in her mind. 

Nevano grinned, truly amused, "Dreyla, I'm probably the oldest mer in this town right now. I've seen more blood and shit than anyone here. I think Veleth will end up seeing more action in the future. Now, more than ever, we all need to be strong."

"And you? What's your role in all this?"

Nevano stood up, pulling his hood over his face. His ring, the distinctive gold star set on the silver moon, caught the firelight from the sconces on the wall. Dreyla's eyes went wide. "My role? That has yet to be determined." He stepped out into the dark and set out east. He had a necromancer to hunt down. 

XxXxXx

Nevano ventured back across Solstheim in no particular hurry. His mind was churning, digesting the story Veleth had told him. He was impressed with the younger mer, his initial respect of him only increased after he heard his back-story. The kid was indeed a bull; tough, resilient and a little single minded but there was a huge well of potential there. Personally Nevano thought the Redoran council were a bunch of fools who didn’t see what they had in him but then again this was the same council he had to kill the archmaster of once in a fit of pride in order to save the province. He was also fairly certain Veleth wasn’t even aware of his own potential. It was a very interesting situation, one that Nevano was still contemplating taking advantage of. Not in a bad way; the captain had inspired a resolve in him, one that he was surprised to see in himself, but, as before, he had to shove it into a back corner of his mind. He wanted to solve this current mission first before making a concrete decision on this monumental predicament. 

Tel Mithryn was something the locals of Raven Rock had murmured about with a mixture of fear and disdain but that didn’t surprise Nevano in the least. Most people spoke of the Telvanni wizards like most spoke of dragons: awe, fear and trepidation. Nevano had an altogether different opinion of them: migraine-inducing source of frustration. The Telvanni were very proud, haughty and aloof. Granted they were easily among the most accomplished magic wielders in the world but after throwing in the usual Dunmer characteristics they became a whole new level of dangerous…and annoying. 

Nevano looked up, a bit surprised to see the giant mushroom tower far closer than he initially thought. That’s what he got for not paying attention, he supposed. The wind shifted slightly, blowing almost directly into his face instead of straight north. Nevano scrunched his nose as he got slapped in the face by a handful of ash.

A low keen rode the on the wind, barely heard above the incessant crashing of waves. Nevano froze, his ears pricked. It was a haunting noise, sweet and sad all at the same time. The keen rose in pitch and volume, echoing in his very bones until it released it a yodel that made the very air vibrate. Nevano’s breath caught in his throat. Only one animal in the world made that noise but there was no way…could it really be? He took off at a run up the hill, jumping over rocks and dancing around trama roots that tried to snake their way around his ankles. He slammed to a halt at the top, looking down over the edge. 

Slowly the silt strider turned to face the new visitor, giving an inquisitive trill as it reached up with a massive front leg to touch Nevano’s face with surprising gentleness and versatility. 

“Hey there.” Nevano said gently, reaching up to stroke the inquiring appendage as it continued to stroke his face, “Easy there. You are definitely a sight for sore eyes.” The silt strider gave a pleased purr. 

“I’ve never seen Dusty react like that anyone besides me.” Nevano jumped when a Dunmer rose from a small campfire not too far on his right. How had he not noticed him? The silt strider, Dusty, gave Nevano a rebuking poke in the cheek for moving too fast. “She’s used to visitors but never before has she ever paid them any attention.”

“It’s been…I don’t even know how long since I last saw a silt strider.” Nevano gave Dusty another pat, “She’s gorgeous.”

“Aye she is.” The mer gave Dusty a look of fierce pride, “One of the last I’m afraid. I personally trained her from a larva. Feels like a lifetime ago now. She hasn’t been in traveling condition for quite a while now. I’ve tried to let her go off on her own but she insists on staying here. I’ve decided to stay here with her and make sure she passes in peace. It’s the least I can do for her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Nevano said sincerely, “It’s like seeing another piece of Morrowind go.”

“Aye, that it is.” The mer stuck out a hand, “Revus Sarvani by the way.”

“Nevano.” Nevano gave him a quick firm handshake then had to fend off an insistent insect limb that bopped him in the face again, “Someone doesn’t like the attention wandering off her, does she?”

“She certainly likes you.” Revus said in amusement. “As I said, the locals come out here every once in a while to catch a glimpse of Dusty but she never so much as makes a peep around them. Usually she’s pretty aloof.”

“I have a habit of attracting the ladies.” Nevano grinned, “This…is a little ridiculous though.”

“Say, are you heading to Tel Mithryn?”

“I am.”

“Just be careful. Some young Nord lad came traipsing up this way not too long ago and then he and the wizard went off to that dwemer ruin. I don’t know what happened but I could hear an awful roaring on the wind. Dusty here was upset about it for a long time after the noises stopped. They haven’t come back yet.”

“Thanks Revus. You stay safe out here.” Nevano gave Dusty one last pat and set off towards the stand of mushroom towers, the silt strider’s mournful howl following him. So, Gunjar had sought the aid of the Telvanni wizard eh? That was a good idea…as long as Gunjar remembered his manners and didn’t insult the Telvanni too bad. If Nevano had to choose between a two-headed dragon and an angry 1,000 year old Telvanni wizard, it would be the dragon every time, no contest. Dragons breathed fire or ice and had big teeth and claws. Master wizards made jewelry out of soul gems that they trapped the souls of those that annoyed them too much in. 

Tel Mithryn consisted of a cluster of mushroom houses, dominated by one large towering structure. He smiled a little. It was like looking at a miniature version of Sadrith Mora, except without the Telvanni guard. THAT was something Nevano was rather happy about. If he thought the Ordinators in Vivec hated him, the Telvanni guard had been exponentially worse. The Ordinators didn’t care if he was an outlander; the Telvanni took it as a personal affront. Stealing slaves from the slave market hadn’t exactly done anything to endear him to the Telvanni. 

“Why are you out here? The master is away. Aren’t you supposed to stay in the tower?” A stern looking old Dunmer woman was watching a younger man flip frantically through a book.

“If you must know, I’m trying to get this spell to work. Now let me concentrate. Besides, shouldn’t you be worrying about the damage to the tower, Elynea?” he said distractedly. 

“I at least know how to repair the tower. Why aren’t you doing this in the lab, where it would be safer for us all?”

“The uh…the lab is too small. Also I need the ashy soil. The master told me to practice this spell while he’s away. No need to tell him about when he gets back. He knows all about this.”

“It’s on your head if something goes wrong. Just let me get back inside first.” Nevano watched as the old woman walked into one of the smaller mushroom compounds, grumbling under his breath. He also noted a few more faces quickly disappear back into the other buildings after the exchange ended. He didn’t blame them. An apprentice working on a spell he obviously shouldn’t be? This was going to end badly. 

“So what spell are you trying to do?” Nevano spoke up when he got closer. 

“I’m trying to summon an ash guardian, I’m having trouble deciphering the master’s handwriting…” The younger man never even looked up. Nevano idly mused that he could have been a talking bear and the kid still wouldn’t notice. 

“Are you sure you should be trying to attempt it then?”

“Yes I…” the apprentice trailed off as he squinted at the page, his concentration fully on the book in front of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I need to concentrate.”

Nevano rolled his eyes and started up the winding wooden ramp to the main mushroom tower. Like everyone else, he didn’t want to be outside when things went to hell but somehow he had a feeling he was going to be sucked into this stupidity anyway. Just as he was about to open the round door, there was a small boom, a rushing noise, what sounded like boulders grinding together and a high-pitched scream. Nevano spun around and ran back down the ramp, snapped Truefire and Hopesflame free as he ran. Sure enough the apprentice ran up to him, absolutely panicked. 

“What did you do?” Nevano asked flatly, bracing himself to hear what sort of creature had been summoned from the pits of hell. 

“I summoned an ash guardian but…” the apprentice looked nervously over his shoulder, “It’s running amok! Please help me before the master finds out!”

“I should make you clean it up.” Nevano narrowed his eyes, “But you’re pathetic enough that you’ll get killed and that thing you summoned will refuse to disappear when you die because undoubtedly you screwed that up too.” Nevano sighed. “Fine but you stay out of my way.”

“Not a problem! I’ll be in the tower!” Nevano really didn’t know why he added ‘stay out of my way’. The apprentice had been edging to the tower door and had disappeared inside before he had even finished speaking. Well, at least he wouldn’t be underfoot.

Nevano jogged over to where he first saw the apprentice and found himself diving face first into the ground as a spray of ash and rock aimed at his head flashed overhead. He drew his legs up under him and coiled himself like a snake, ready to spring up as soon as the spray was finished. He tried to get a good look at his opponent but all he could see was a confusing whirlwind of ash and rock. 

The spray ended and he jumped up and ran in, striking out with Truefire. He had no idea just what he was striking at per say but this thing reminded him of an atronach. He knew that with an atronach, even if it seemed his sword was striking at nothing his weapon was actually doing damage. Instead of his sword sinking into his foe, striking something, anything, Nevano was instead thrown sideways as the whirlwind of rocks spun faster and knocked the blade aside. Nevano didn’t try to fight to new motion, instead relaxing his muscles to easily go with the motion and turn a fall into a graceful roll back to his feet again. He had to immediately run though, as the ash guardian began to spray at him with a pounding stream of ash and rock again. Fortunately he found that he was far faster than the creature and easily got around behind the ash guardian. He narrowed his eyes as he saw a glowing spot in the center of the ash guardian’s back. He thrust both swords up and into the glowing point before it could raise its defenses again. This time he made contact and the ash guardian abruptly crumbled into a pile of ash and rock.

Nevano sheathed his sword, nudged at the pile with his foot, trying to find whatever had made the glow but whatever it was had disintegrated along with the body. Perhaps this thing was in the atronach family after all. Most atronachs had a life core in the center of their bodies. Strike that and they would go down. Some were easier to see than other. Storm atronachs were easy to see even if it was insanely difficult to actually hit. He wasn’t sure where to categorize this new type of atronach. It was definitely something to keep watch for though. He shook his head and went back up to the mushroom tower. 

As soon as he went in he was jerked straight up off his feet and carried to the upper level of the mushroom, to the hollowed out cap that made up the main living space of the structure. He wobbled as he landed on the platform at the top. So the levitation was automatic instead of leaving it up to the visitors to provide their own levitation potion or spell. That was unusually friendly for a Telvanni.

“Is it gone?” The apprentice was suddenly in Nevano’s face, looking near in hysterics with fear.

“Yes it’s gone.” Nevano put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back a step or two. “Don’t go poking around in spell books unless you are told to. You aren’t the first stupid apprentice I’ve had to bail out when it comes to summoning things they shouldn’t be. Azura knows you won’t be the last either.”

“What a relief.” The apprentice sagged back into a nearby chair. “I promise I won’t do that again. As long as the master doesn’t find out…I’m Talvas Fathryon by the way. You really saved my hide, the master will be back any second and if he saw that…he’d do worse than just kill me!”

“Knowing these Telvanni wizards I’m not about to take that as an exaggeration.” Nevano grunted, “Who is your master anyway? No one has said his name yet. It’s like everyone is afraid if they say it he’ll suddenly appear in front of them.”

“Oh, it’s Master…” Talvas trailed off as the door below banged open. Without finishing his sentence he leaped up and dove for a nearby table, frantically attempting to look busy. Nevano rolled his eyes and leaned against a table he quickly checked to make sure it was empty save for a few piles of books. He didn’t want to lean against something…reactive. The funnel of levitation magic glowed slightly and voices rose up with the owners.

“….keep looking for more Black Books. The information contained in those books is immeasurable.” Nevano frowned. That voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“I will but I think for now I should return to the Skaal. I think I got what I need to continue on with my quest.”

Nevano stared as two figures landed on the platform, frozen in shock. Gunjar he recognized right away, of course. But the other…that was…no it couldn’t be. Yet he couldn’t NOT believe what was right in front of him. Master Neloth, one of the House Telvanni councilors, a master wizard who was over 1,200 years old now if Nevano’s memory served him correctly. He remembered Neloth, oh yes he did. Neloth was easily the crankiest wizard Nevano ever had the displeasure of knowing, one who really had taxed his patience and his wallet. 

Gunjar lit up as soon as he saw Nevano, spreading his arms wide and giving that goofy smile that Nevano had to return. He couldn’t help it; Gunjar’s cheerfulness was always infectious. “Nevano! I didn’t expect to see you here! How is your side of things going?” 

“Nevano?” Neloth looked Nevano up and down briefly. “Hmm, that was the name of the Nerevarine. You two are probably too young to remember him…”

“Too young?” Nevano started. “Too YOUNG?! Neloth, you don’t recognize me at all do you?! By Azura I want my 2,000 drakes back that I had to bribe you with to make me Hortator!!” Nevano waved his arms around frantically. 

“Well well, they said you went to-“

“To Akavir, yes I heard that rumor.” Nevano interrupted impatiently, “It’s not true. I never left. I’ve been slinking around, unnecessarily apparently.”

“Then what are you doing back here?” Neloth asked as casually as if he were asking about the weather. All at once Nevano felt his temper ignite, like a spark thrown on old dry wood.

“I’m on vacation.” Nevano said flatly, “Though it got interrupted when someone decided to send giant ash beasts to try to destroy Raven Rock. I mean, here I was, walking along the beach, enjoying the sun, sand and waves when suddenly BAM! Crazy monster attacking a guard who I later learned is the son of an old friend. So the kid I haven’t seen since he was half my height and I have a lovely bloody reunion surrounded by piles of ash that used to be gods damned monsters before skipping over to Fort Frostmoth and having to decapitate another old friend because someone decided TO REANIMATE DEAD BODIES WITH GLOWING ROCKS!!”

“Glowing rocks did you say?”

“So glad that’s all you caught out of all that.” Nevano said, his voice dripping with sarcasm but such sarcasm was always lost on Neloth. 

“Nevano, calm down.” Gunjar gingerly tried to placate the fuming mer. 

“I’m PERFECTLY CALM GUNJAR!”

“Well, there have been all sorts of things going on around here.” Neloth groused, completely ignoring the bickering, “First my steward goes missing and is found dead, my house is withering and now these…ash beasts. I’ve even been attacked by dragons!”

“Uh those…might not be about you…” Gunjar said, blinking owlishly. Nevano rolled his eyes. 

“Either way it’s all pointing to the irrevocable truth; someone is out to get me!”

“It’ll be me in a moment if you don’t hurry up and get to the gods damned point!” Nevano snarled then trailed off to muttering in Velothi when Gunjar elbowed him painfully in the ribs. 

Fortunately Neloth was not the type to notice anything that did not pertain to him. He had the amazing ability to stay utterly focused on what was in front of him while effectively blocking out anything and everything around him. Nevano supposed it was a good thing as the phrases he was growling out were not polite and were starting to toe the line of homicidal. He had no idea if Neloth knew the Ashlander tongue or not but it really wasn’t too hard to get the gist of it. 

“Since you’re still here, you can help him.” Neloth threw over his shoulder at Gunjar, fiddling with a ring. “An interesting combination, the Nerevarine and the Dragonborn. This should be easy then. Take this ring. It’s imbued with a tracking spell. Go wander around and see if it alerts on anything.” Neloth dropped a ring into Gunjar’s outstretched hand and absorbed himself immediately in something else. Nevano could feel a tic forming in his left eye as he grabbed Gunjar’s arm and threw him into the magical elevator before jumping after him himself. 

“Calm down, I’m going!”

“Of all the Telvanni in this world is had to be NELOTH!” Nevano ground his teeth, “The most aggravating Dunmer in the world.”

“True but he’s…” Gunjar stopped and pulled his axe loose, “What in Shor’s name are those things?”

Nevano pulled Bonebiter out, not in the least bit surprised to see the ash spawn crawling up from out of the ground. “Remember I mentioned crazy ash monsters? These would be them. When you strike, strike for the chest and try to split it apart. A simple hit doesn’t faze them. Go in hard and fast, I’ll back you up.”

Gunjar didn’t even hesitate. He simply lowered his head and charged in, his axe drawing back for a massive strike as he neared the first ash spawn. Nevano knocked an arrow and carefully sent it flying over Gunjar’s left shoulder to strike a ash spawn attempting to flank the younger man in the face. While it took off the thing’s face, it didn’t quite stop it but a second arrow that was swiftly following the first reduced the monster back the stuff it was made from. Gunjar had taken Nevano’s advice to heart and with one massive strike cleaved his target in half. He didn’t have enough time to wind up for quite as powerful a hit as the first time but a combination of massive axe and magic-imbued arrow took care of the final spawn. 

“Ash spawn huh?” Gunjar asked, hefting his axe up on his shoulder.

“That’s what the Redoran Guard called them. Name is appropriate enough.” Nevano kept Bonebiter out as he walked up to Gunjar. “They just…form up from the ash. Sometimes you can tell where they’ll pop up from but usually they surprise you. Never thought I’d say this but I miss the draugr. They’re far more predictable.”

“Careful what you wish for.” Gunjar smiled, slipping the ring Neloth had given him on. It was made by an elf and presumably for elves. It only fit on Gunjar’s little finger and barely at that. “I don’t see anything around here.”

“Not sure exactly what we’re looking for.” Nevano said as they started walking around the group of mushrooms. “For all we know, the reaction could be anything from pixie lights to an explosion…I hope that ring isn’t what is going to do the exploding.” He grinned when Gunjar immediately held his hand away from his body as if it would explode at any moment. “Come on. I know it sounds morbid but there’s got to be a cemetery around here. All of my past dealings with the Telvanni involved kidnappings and killing. I only saw a spriggan in a cage so that leaves death.”

“Over here.” Gunjar confidently went around to the north side of the itty-bitty town. Nevano didn’t know if it was the ring that was influencing him or if he had seen it on his previous visit to Tel Mithryn. Nevano shrugged to himself, just happy that Gunjar knew the way.

“There’s another ash spawn, Nevano…” Gunjar started to say, pointing to a tree that protected the little cemetery. He didn’t get a chance to do or say much else as Nevano simply fired off the arrow he had been twirling in his fingers. “There’s another ash pile, Nevano.”

Nevano pulled out another arrow, twirling it idly while he watched Gunjar poke around. Seeing the ash spawn standing guard over the cemetery like that was a pretty good indicator that his gut feeling had been spot on. He remembered Veleth saying something about how local superstition had been murmuring about the ash spawn maybe being undead, the disquieted souls of those killed by the angry Red Mountain rising up to lash out at those still living. He was starting to think that there might be some grain of truth to that. 

“Ok, I can’t read your Dunmeri chicken scratch but this grave is empty except for this glowing stone…” Gunjar broke into Nevano’s reverie. 

“Glowing stone?” Nevano frowned at the red stone that Gunjar was holding up. “Weird. And it’s not chicken scratch. It’s daedric lettering. Frightens humans and small children.” He came up next to Gunjar and looked down at the simple stone headstone. “We like to keep up the ‘dark’ in ‘dark elf’ and…oh Azura.”

Ildari Sarothril. The headstone read Ildari Sarothril. The same name that had been stamped on the back of the diary he had found in Fort Frostmoth.

XxXxXx

“Hmm, I’ve known for decades that heartstones will mitigate the ash but it would have to be very close by. Where exactly did you find this heart stone?” Neloth said later, examining the stone that Gunjar brought to him.

“In a grave marked Ildari Sarothril’s grave.” Gunjar said. Nevano crossed his arms tightly across his chest, more than a little interested in hearing Neloth’s explanation. None of this made the slightest bit of sense to him. Ildari Sarothril was the one he had identified who had raised General Flax Carius at Fort Frostmoth but now she was supposed to be dead? Was she dead and someone was impersonating her or had something else happened? 

“Ildari? Then it’s my own fault.” Nevano nearly fell over. Neloth…apologized? He wanted to run to the window to see if guar were fluttering through the air on fluffy white wings. “She was my apprentice before Talvas. She volunteered for one of my experiments with the heartstones. It was quite annoying when she died.”

“Experiment? What did you do?” Gunjar demanded, frowning.

“My necropsies of Spriggans led me to believe that a heartstone could be implanted into a person’s chest, granting them great power. I was considering replacing my heart with a heartstone but Ildari offered herself up first. Of course this was before I sent someone out to investigate the Foresworn briarhearts. Now I know that I did the surgery all wrong.”

“There wasn’t a body in the grave. Just the heart stone.”

“What? That’s impossible. Wait…unless she didn’t actually die. The heartstone could have kept her right at the edge of life and death! Could it be? Could it be that Ildari is still alive? Could she be my nemesis?” Once again Nevano could see that Neloth was not grasping the situation the right way. It was still about him, not about all the other people who had suffered from this…botched surgery. “Wait a moment while I cast a more specific divination.”

Nevano exchanged a look with Gunjar. He could tell that this much magic was starting to make Gunjar uneasy, even for one as open-minded as the green-eyed man was. Well, maybe it wasn’t the amount so much as it was the type. This was…necromancy. There, he finally let the word cross his mind. Necromancy. His irritation, which he had managed to push down to a manageable level, started to bubble back to the surface as he watched Neloth begin to perform a complicated series of hand signals. All he wanted right now was to be pointed in the right direction so he could go kill someone.

“She lives. Seek her in highpoint tower!” Neloth said in a deep reverberating voice, so unlike his usual demanding tone. Then he blinked and shook his head a little, going right back to normal. “So…Ildari does live after all. She thought she could hide from me. But she can’t. Go rip that thrice cursed heart from her chest.” 

Nevano spun on his heel and marched out of the tower. He was angry, very angry. He couldn’t exactly explain why he was so angry. Irritated, sure but not teeth-grindingly angry like he was. He knew that dealing with a wizard was going to be aggravating but this had been far more than he bargained for. 

“Hey, Nevano!”

Nevano spun around to see Gunjar running to catch up to him. He forced a smile on his face, “Did you see the silt strider? I missed seeing those. Useful things. It was the only way to get overland in Vvardenfell unless you felt like walking. The first one I ever saw was in Seyda Neen. Made quite a fool of myself to be honest. I had no memories of my homeland and seeing a giant bug sent me over the edge.”

“Why can’t you Dunmer be normal and just use horses?” 

“Horses are far more delicious than a giant bug. We’ve been over this.” Nevano grinned, “We at least use actual animals. Bosmer have moving trees. Moving. Trees.”

“I think we can all agree Bosmer are strange…actually, all mer are strange.”

“I…can’t even argue with that.”

“That’s all beside the point. You’re evading again. You were really on a roll back there.”

“Sarcasm is one of my finer qualities.” Nevano shrugged, “It’s just been cranked up rather high lately.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm. That was anger.”

“The Telvanni always seem to stir me up.” Nevano sighed and scrubbed at his messy ridge of hair, “My apologies. We didn’t get along two centuries ago and we still don’t get along today. I stole a lot of slaves of them and they never forgave me for being an outlander and having to owe me for saving their worthless hides. Neloth…was a particular pain in the arse. I had to petition every idiot councilor in Vvardenfell for the title of Hortator and he honestly didn’t care. I had to bribe him nearly my entire purse just to get the time of day and even then it was a brush off. Oh, and I had to rescue a Redoran councilor’s daughter from his mushroom palace. So to be treated like his lap dog again? Like I’m doing this at his command and not on my own volition? Makes it a little hard to put a muzzle on the rage.”

“It could be far worse…he could have asked to use you as an experiment.” Gunjar smiled as Nevano made a face. That definitely was worse. “Found out your purpose for coming here yet?”

Nevano sighed, “Unfortunately I did.”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“It’s all pointing to trouble back in Morrowind.” Nevano prodded the inquiring limb of a trama root plant with his toe, avoiding impaling his boot on the long thorns. “I’ve been asked by multiple people to go back to Morrowind to…I don’t know, take care of it. Like I’m the only person who can just swoop in and clean up a mess like a maid. I already know how it ends. I clean up Morrowind’s mess, again I might add, and the dirty shit rag gets thrown away.”

“Or maybe you’re the only one who can pull off a spectacular save for a nation who got themselves into trouble so deep they can’t figure out how to get out of it.” Gunjar said too casually and innocently for Nevano to actually rebuke it. “Or maybe a nation will rejoice at seeing their old hero coming back to save them again.”

“You still have a very romantic view of this hero business, kid.”

“Or maybe I don’t care what the councilors and kings and jarls think and focus instead on the civilians who are truly grateful.”

“Gunjar…”

“I’m headed back to the Skaal. I’m off to kill Miraak once and for all. The next time we meet, hopefully all will be well on this island again. Think about what I said.” Gunjar smiled and turned northeast. “It’s easy to give in. But we aren’t the breed of people who caves easily, are we?” 

Nevano stared wordlessly after his Nord friend, his mouth hanging open. When he finally regained the sense to shake his head and shut his mouth Gunjar was already out of sight. “Huh…the kid learned more than I thought.” 

Maybe, a small voice in the back of his head said quietly, just maybe, he had a point…

XxXxXx

He had to wander around a bit to actually find the entrance to the tower. Highpoint itself was perched on…well on a high point. It sat on a hill overlooking a good portion of Solstheim. On a clear day Nevano was fairly certain he could almost see the entire southern half of the island. However there was no entrance to be found so he descended to the bottom of the hill to look around. He figured he was on the right path when an ash spawn started to crawl out of the ground in front of a set of steps. A quick shot from Bonebiter to the head before it finished emerging took care of the problem and he continued up the flight of stairs, pausing only to dispatch the ashspawn guarding the door. 

Highpoint tower at first glance seem to be identical to Fort Frostmoth; ash piled up from where it seeped in from cracks in the structure, moss growing on the neglected walls and old furniture rotted away to unrecognizable heaps. All in all, the same rot and neglect Nevano had encountered in old caves, forts, castles and caverns all over Tamriel. However, as he descended the spiral stone staircase, he began to see some signs of habitation. A chair sat in front of an unlit fireplace with fresh firewood waiting to be ignited. Fresh food sat in a bucket and a few empty bottles free of dust sat nearby. He pulled out an arrow, just in case, and continued on down to the next level, where even more obvious signs of someone living here were evident. A familiar leather journal caught his attention and he snatched it up, shaking a little when he saw the now familiar stamp of daedric letters on the back. 

“Ildari…” he growled and flipped it open.

“The fools have taken me in. Weak, pathetic men intent on looting this ancient fortress with their crude mining. Niyya is pleasant enough. I may choose to spare her when the time comes. 

I’m still weak from Neloth’s betrayal. He promised me power and glory. He failed to mention the constant pain. And the voices. By the three I would do anything to not hear the voices. 

When my strength returns, I will have my vengeance upon my former master. I can feel the power of the heart stone beating inside me. I need to find a way to tap into its power. Then he shall pay in blood and fire and ash.”

“What the hell?” Nevano breathed, flipping through the pages to see if there were more entries but it abruptly stopped. His stomach clenched as his eyes fell on the words “the fools have taken me in” again. Suddenly his quest took on a whole new edge of urgency. He needed to go quick and hopefully save these miners. He dropped the diary back on the table and raced down the remaining stairs to the bottom floor. The signs of habitation he saw…they weren’t from Ildari. By Azura he should have looked into this situation sooner!

He followed the hallway and into a room with three hallways leading from it. Two of the hallways were clogged with spider webs and guarded by pulsating red sacs that made a noise that made his teeth feel like they were melting. The third had a soul gem that flickered dangerously with electric magic. The choice was fairly easy. Spiders were only marginally better than rats and Nevano still avoided them if at all possible, especially when they were in sacs making that horrible sticky squishing noise that made his stomach flop. The soul gem was no issue. Nevano simply threw a rock at it and once it fell from its spot, the magic ceased working. He had seen that before in Alyeid ruins and thought that, while initially a good idea, the security system had a few glaring flaws. 

He went along the hallway, a few more ash spawn that he quickly dispatched, a torture chamber with a glaringly obvious tripwire, and then it ended facing a wall with a strange symbol glowing on it. Nevano frowned. He had never seen anything like it before. He took a step closer to investigate. 

“No! Look out!” 

Nevano jumped back purely out of reflex as the symbol glowed brightly and exploded outwards in a rush of frost magic. He managed to jump far enough to avoid the brunt of it but he could feel needles of ice pelt the exposed skin of his arms and face. 

“Over here! Help me please!” Nevano shook over the sting of cold and looked over to the right, seeing an arm waving frantically at him from a cage. He stumbled over to see a Redguard woman in miner’s clothes watching him with a wary hope. “Unlock the door, hurry!”

Nevano pulled a lockpick from his pack and knelt in front of the lock. “Niyya, I presume?”

“I…how did you know?”

“Ildari left a diary. I saw your name in there. Seems you were the only one who might have sparked a small ounce of pity from her.”

“Oh please, that witch was going to kill me soon, I just know it.”

“What can you tell me about her?” Nevano cursed as his lockpick broke and he fished around in his bag for a new one. 

“We were digging in these mines when she found us. She was hurt so bad…we took pity on her and nursed her back to health.” Niyya looked down, a tear sliding down her face. “She repaid our kindness by attacking us in the middle of the night. Those of us that didn’t die were made prisoners.”

“What did she do with the prisoners?”

“Horrible things. Experiments…and worse. I’m the last one. The others are all dead now.” Niyya’s voice turned hard as she looked back up at Nevano. “If you can find her, don’t make her end quick.”

“Do you have a place to go? Once I get this lock open that is…” His hands were shaking so bad from anger and frustration that it was a wonder he could move the picks at all. It wasn’t an overly difficult lock, there was only the one tumbler to get past, but in his state it might as well have been five tumblers. 

“After I leave this place I’m going to get on the first boat to the mainland. I have family in Skyrim.”

Nevano finally got the lock open and allowed Niyya to go free. She gave him a grateful look, “Good luck to you.” And she was gone. On the table behind him, Nevano found another diary. He was almost afraid to pick it up. Ildari’s journals were getting increasingly insane and he wasn’t so sure how much more of this he could take. Yet his hand reached out and picked up the small leather bound book. He had to know. He had to see just what he was up against. 

“I am stronger now. The heart stone kept me alive after Neloth’s butchery. I can feel the bones in the ash calling to me. I can call back to them too. With the heart stone I can bind the spirits to bone and ash and raise a servant to do my bidding. 

Tonight I will seize control. These miners and fortune seekers are pawns of Neloth. I can feel them staring at me. I’m sure they are sending him messages, reporting on my every move. The only ones I can trust are the voices. They’ve never lied to me. They’ve shown me that these fools plan to betray me, just like Neloth. 

When they are all asleep I will raise my ash spawn. Their brute of a leader will die first. I can see the lust in his heart. He may act all kind and generous, bit I know what he wants, what they all want. They want the heart stone.

I’ll keep a few prisoners. I need test subjects for my experiments. There is more that the heart stone can do. I just need to try out a few ideas.”

Nevano dropped the diary as if it were on fire. He felt sick to his stomach. This was insanity. No, this was beyond insanity. He rubbed at his face in an effort to relieve a bit of the anxiety building in him. The level of madness in this journal was nearly on par with Dagoth Ur’s madness, something that still caused his heart to pound and his stomach to churn thinking about the citadels of Red Mountain. This…this needed to end. Now. 

He made his way through the mines, past tools had been placed down where the miner had last been working. They were waiting to be picked up and used again, but now they were forever frozen in place, a memorial to all the miners who had been horribly brutalized and slain. Nevano was careful not to disturb anything. It was a bit silly but he wanted to leave all signs of the miners as intact as possible. Maybe so the next time someone ventured in here, they would stop and give a thought to the previous occupants. In a way, it would keep the miner’s memories alive. 

The mines opened up to a huge cavern, lined with scaffolding that led up to what looked like ruined towers up in the back. In font of him three pillars with lights on top surrounded a raised platform. He didn’t hear anything nor did he see any piles of ash that could possibly contain a ash spawn lying in wait. He stepped out of the narrow passage into the cavern. 

“You’ve gone far enough.” Nevano nearly jumped out of his skin. Up by the ruined towers, a woman had suddenly appeared. Even from this distance Nevano could see the bright gleam of madness in her eyes. Ildari. “Neloth is a fool to think he could send some low-life to finish me off.”

Nevano’s widened in horror as Ildari waved her hands. The crackle of magic flowed through the room, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Five ash spawn began to rise up from the ground and a ash guardian was coalescing from the summoning circle. He remembered the last journal he had read; Ildari could call out to the spirits living in the ash, raising them up as mindless undead slaves. Several sets of glowing eyes settled on him. She hadn’t summoned a spawn or two, she had summoned a small army. 

“That…n’wah…” He breathed. This was bad. This was very bad. Quickly, as they began to move towards him, he fired off a shot at the nearest ash spawn before slinging Bonebiter over his shoulder and drawing his twin swords. By pure luck, his arrow struck the ash spawn in the chest, disintegrating it. Too bad he didn’t have time to fire off any more shots like that. 

He blocked a blow from one of the ash spawn with Hopesfire and swiped at another’s knee with Trueflame. He was about to double thrust into the ash spawn in front of him when he saw the ash guardian magic up a rather hefty rock. He abruptly changed course and rolled to the side just as it came crashing through, helpfully taking out one of the ash spawn for him, leaving three left. He was starting to feel a bit more optimistic, especially with the way his luck was going. Three were a bit more manageable than five. Five could surround him entirely where three could only flank him. He never let anyone flank him. 

Sure enough, the three ash spawn started to try to get around to his sides but he back flipped away from them, opening up more distance between them and allowing him to side step around so his foes had to come at him directly instead. It was a clever move, one that had gotten him out of many scrapes in the past. It worked perfectly this time as well….except he forgot about one rather important thing. 

The ash guardian let loose a geyser of dust. Nevano saw it far too late out of the corner of his eye and only had time to shield his face before he took the full brunt of the attack. It lifted him clean off his feet and up on the scaffolding, slamming him against one of the massive stalagmites. White light exploded in his vision as the air was knocked from his lungs with a sickening crack. He gasped and tried to suck in air to refill his lungs but pain shot through his chest like a whip crack, paralyzing his entire respiratory system in shock. He clamped down on the flare of panic that instinctively tried to well up. He knew what the crack was. At least three ribs had cracked. The pain was excruciating but he could take in small gasps of air so his lungs weren’t punctured. He could continue to fight. For now. 

The creak of wood snapped him out of his self-analysis. Ignoring the pain to the best of his ability he brought up his swords to block the organic sword. The impact of the swords sent shockwaves through his chest. He groaned and nearly lost his grip. Already his hands were shaking, the ash spawn’s sword inching closer to his face. The other two ash spawn were coming up the ramp as well, not to mention the ash guardian below. Four against one and he had broken ribs. This wasn’t looking good…unless…

Nevano wasn’t a particularly big mer. He was short and was more on the wiry side. These ash spawn were enormous, dwarfing even the imposing Captain Veleth. However, he didn’t need to be big for what he had planned. He broke off the defensive block and threw himself at the ash spawn, driving his shoulder into the thing’s chest. He certainly wasn’t big enough to knock the spawn over but he didn’t need to knock it down…he just needed it to take a step back. 

The ash spawn, its balance thrown off, took a step back…only to stumble when it unexpectedly found the ramp. Nevano landed on his knees at the edge of the ramp and watched his plan unfold. The ash spawn stumbled backwards down the ramp, crashing into the other two ash spawn and sending them tumbling off the scaffolding and onto the ground below. Nevano wasted no time to see if they survived or not. He ran the rest of the way up the scaffolding to where Ildari had stood. The ash guardian was still sitting in its summoning circle, facing where he had been moments earlier. Nevano could see the glowing spot on its back. He pulled out Bonebiter, knocked an arrow and nearly screamed in pain as he let it fly, the immense pull of the string too much for his broken ribs. The sound of rushing wind died down as the ash guardian dissipated, leaving only the sound of Nevano’s strained panting. He leaned over the side of the tower, looking for any sign of the other three ash spawn but saw only smoking piles of ash. It was only then he allowed himself to collapse on his back.

He lay there for a few minutes, trying to get his breathing under control. He had to force himself to take deeper breaths instead of the shallow pants to prevent hyperventilation. If he passed out now he might as well mark himself as dead. It was hard though. The pain would rise in sharp spikes that made his whole body twitch involuntarily every time his chest expanded with air. He could feel Nerevar pushing at his consciousness, encouraging him to get up. 

“I’m working on it, you fetcher.” He snapped, slowly shoving himself up to his elbows, avoiding bending his upper body as much as he could. He glanced around and saw that the tower ruins were relatively well stocked. A few shelves had some alchemical ingredients and a few books on them while a hasty travel alchemy lab was set up nearby. That made sense. Certain potions could help production in a mine. A few other miscellaneous things were littered here and there but then he saw it. That ominous leather book that he was really starting to hate seeing. He shoved himself to his feet and staggered over. 

“These warrens are well suited to me. I can plot my vengeance undisturbed. I’ve created many ash spawn and summoned atronachs to do my bidding. Yet I know it isn’t enough. Neloth is a wily old wizard. I need more power.

I’m out of test subjects, except for Niyya. I saved her for last. She pretended to be my friend when I first cam here. But now I know the truth. The voices have told me all about her lies and betrayal. She works with Neloth to bring me down. I’ve saved a special experiment just for her. It will take quite a while to complete.

I can’t attack Neloth directly, he’s too powerful. But I can make his life uncomfortable. I’ve killed his steward, I’ve wither his home. Maybe I should poison his precious tear. I’ll need a more capable servant for that. The ash spawn are too clumsy for such delicate work.”

This diary Nevano slipped into his bag. It was the ultimate form of conviction, this written confession. Not that he really needed one. This lunatic needed to die period, but he felt better for having it on hand. Maybe that was Gunjar and Veleth, the two morally correct ones, rubbing off on him. Nevano winced as he straightened up. Unfortunately he couldn’t wait around until his ribs were better. He no longer had that luxury of time. He needed to hurry up and find Ildari before she killed anyone else. He had no doubt that if she escaped from here, she would relocate to another lair and find more people to experiment on. 

He entered the tunnel, one arm wrapped around his torso in a futile attempt to ease the pain. Out of all the bones he had broken in his life, ribs were undoubtedly the worst. He had snapped his arm so badly once that the bone had protruded from his skin but that still didn’t compare to the discomfort of broken ribs grinding against his lungs, restricting his breathing and causing potential damage to his respiratory system. Perhaps it was the instinct to protect his ability to breath that made it seem worse. Or maybe it was because he couldn’t stop his chest from moving while he breathed causing a constant aggravation. At least with a broken arm or leg he could immobilize it. The ribs had no such luxury. 

He nearly cried out in frustration as yet more ash spawn popped up but this time he caught them unawares and Bonebiter was able to take care of them without creating a huge ruckus like earlier. Nevano knew that if he got into another big fight he would have to be crafty or he would end up in big trouble real quick. He groaned when he fired off the last arrow and dropped to his knees, both arms wrapped around his chest. He coughed and winced when flecks of blood stained the ground in front of him. He was injured far worse than he thought. 

Trying to work out a quick fix he dug through his pack until he found a roll of bandages. He stripped off his armor and wrapped the bandages as tight as he could stand around his ribs. It was most likely the worst thing he could possibly do but he had no choice right now. It would have to suffice until he could crawl out of here and back to Raven Rock. If he was lucky he wouldn’t collapse a lung along the way and pass out in the wilderness to drown in his own bodily fluids. 

He gingerly shrugged his armor back on. It didn’t dull the pain much but it at least allowed him a bit more freedom of movement. All he needed to do was hold himself together long enough to send a magic-charged arrow into Ildari to crush her ribs far more effectively than she had tried to crush him with her minions. Or crushed. That ash gurdian had definitely gotten in a lucky hit but Nevano intended to return the favor. With that uplifting thought in mind, Nevano picked himself up, wiped the blood from his mouth and trudged on down the tunnel.

Fortunately he didn’t have to go much farther. The tunnel ended into a big room that he knew Ildari was in. He could sense the change in the air. The very energy of the room was cringing away, much like it had around Dagoth Ur. He crept a bit more in and up on the landing he could see her, muttering to herself and pacing around. Nevano darted across the room and up a flight of stairs to the landing, pulling an arrow free as he did so. When he looked around the corner he could just see her. Now was his opportunity. He pulled the arrow back to his cheek, lining the shot up with Ildari’s head. One shot was all he needed to put an end to this ash beast madness. His breath warmed his cold fingers as he sighted down the wood shaft and he realized that he was breathing far too fast and shallow for good aim. He forced himself to deepen his breathing, ignoring the pain from his broken ribs. In and out…in and out…in and release. 

XxXxXx

A/N: Second longest chapter to date. I noticed my chapters are getting consistently longer, something I don't see anyone complaining about! I know I've mentioned it before so I'll mention it one last time. THIS version of Rising from the Ashes will contain bonus content that is not exactly allowed in the other version. This kinda reminds me of the whole debate over the Deadpool movie ratings. This will be my original rated R version. Personally, I like the R-rated stuff better. Happy reading!


	24. By Any Means Necessary

Chapter 23

By Any Means Necessary

XxXxXx

The thing about using a bow was that it was a great stealth weapon. If Nevano could stay hidden his targets often never knew what hit them, especially with a weapon as nasty as Bonebiter. Bows were also great as a support weapon, backing up a melee fighter who was distracting an enemy. The drawback to using a bow was that they were horrible one on one with an enemy who was well aware of the archer. The time it took to draw an arrow, knock it, sight it and fire was often the time it took for a melee fighter to close the distance between the two opponents. Nevano was fast on the draw when it came to all that but it still took him a few seconds. Those precious few seconds wasted in trying to get one last shot off on a charging enemy that may or may not kill them could have been spent drawing a melee weapon and going into a defensive position or even running. It was why he had always counseled archers in the Fighters Guild on learning a melee weapon, even if it was just a dagger. That small piece of metal could be the difference between life and death. The other drawback to a bow was that the archer had to have good aim. There was nothing more frustrating or wasted as a missed shot, especially when it blows the element of surprise. Which is exactly what happened. 

He missed. 

At the last possible second, his broken ribs shifted, the shattered ends grinding against each other making his nerves scream in pain. His body gave an automatic twitch is response, jerking the bow just as his fingers released the arrow. He watched in helpless horror as the arrow buried itself into a bookshelf, the magic of the bow shattering the wooden piece of furniture into splinters. 

Ildari looked up, her eyes meeting his from across the room. A chill ran down his spine as his gaze met her. Put a gold mask on her and she might as well have been Dagoth Ur. “You! How did you survive? Neloth found someone with some strength it seems…”

Nevano didn’t waste what little breath he had in lungs on her. He had done that with Dagoth Ur, actually spending over an hour talking to the mad false god. It had completely shattered the raw remains of his nerves and left him going into battle with shaking knees and hands. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time. This time he allowed the raw beast-like anger that he tried to keep locked away to take over. It pushed away the pain, it pushed away fear and it pushed nearly all of his sense of self away. Nerevar sent a ping of alarm but Nevano ignored it. He unsheathed Truefire and Hopesflame, their fire taking on a distinctive primal ferocity. 

“No, no…it doesn’t matter.” Ildari muttered. “You will die!”

Electricity danced from her fingertips and arced across the room, the brilliant bolts seeking out the interloper but struck only air. Nevano dove into a forward roll and came up running, closing the distance between them. He wound Truefire back, ready to strike as soon as he was within reach…

Something struck Nevano in the side, throwing him sideways. Ildari ran to the other side of the room and Nevano growled like a rabid dog as he watched his prey get further away. He wanted her DEAD! He wanted to feel his swords slice through flesh, have the blood splash over his arms, to have the smell of blood fill his nose, to taste her fear. He was snarled as he was struck again. There was another soul gem, another damn annoying soul gem, throwing balls of fire at him. Another growl bubbled from his throat, his anger increasing. 

“Die already!” His gaze snapped to Ildari has she readied another spell. He focused solely on her, his vision blacking out everything else. The muscles in his legs tensed and quivered as he coiled them under him like a cat ready to spring. She blinked at him, hesitating for the first time. She could see he was injured, the voices surely were telling her that he was. The thought that she was taken off guard excited him in a way no woman’s body ever could. He had the advantage. She was his prey and he would take her down. His taunt body released in a massive propulsion, more reminiscent of a mountain cat than a mer. Fire from the soul gems pelted his body but he ignored it. The rest of the world ceased to be, all except him and his prey. He howled in exaltation as he finally caught her, his swords eagerly seeking to sink into the soft flesh. She was fighting, trying to fend him off with a dagger, preventing him for getting in a lethal wound but he had cut her skin. The smell of blood was sending him into a frenzy, desperate for the kill. 

“Ugh!” Ildari cried out. “The heartstone will protect me!”

“No.” Nevano growled. “It won’t”

Stop. 

No. He couldn’t stop now. He was so close. Soon he would be bathed in her blood, the hunt complete. 

STOP! 

But…

YOU ARE NOT A MONSTER, LAD! 

He froze. Firebolts from the charged soul gems continued to pelt his back and arms but he ignored it. Truefire and Hopesflame fell from his suddenly nerveless hands, the angry flames dying as soon as they hit the floor. He looked down at Ildari. She was covered in cuts, her blood smeared everywhere. She was exhausted from fending him off and could barely move anymore. He had worried her like a dog with a rat. Her eyes were still clear but not focused on him anymore. She was muttering, pausing, then muttering again. He realized she was talking to the voices in her head. She had shut down to the world around her, much like he had. Like. He. Had. Oh gods… 

Finish her off, lad. End this.

He grabbed Ildari’s shirtfront and held her up. Her eyes went wide, finally registering him and what he intended to do, first with shock and then from fear. Perhaps the voices were finally telling her that this was the monster who was finally going to end her miserable existence. However, even if she knew what was going to happen, she no longer had the energy to stop it. Nevano plunged his arm into Ildari’s chest and grabbed the heartstone that was nestled in the gaping hole, bound by organic tissue and magic threads. He yanked as hard as he could. 

Ildari screamed as her life force was severed violently, blood and bits of bone and flesh erupting from her chest as the magic sustaining her beat a hasty exit. Both she and Nevano were thrown away from each other from the violent force. Magic was slung around the room, bouncing off the walls and shredding what was left of the furniture before finally dissipating. 

Nevano stayed where he was on the ground for a moment, wheezing painfully around his broken ribs, gripping the bloody heartstone in his hand. The whole room was washed in a sudden silence, the negative energy bleeding from the room and his mind like water from a sieve, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted. Slowly he sat up. The room looked as if a hurricane had tore through it. Furniture was splintered and destroyed, scorch marks from the soul gems marred the walls and blood from both him and Ildari covered the floor like a grotesque lake. In the middle of it all was Ildari’s broken body. Nevano stared at her empty glassy eyes and realized he felt just as empty as her eyes were. He felt nothing. He should have felt relieved, happy even, that such a monster was finally destroyed. Instead he felt nothing at all. He felt a remonstrative pounding like a headache in his head and knew it was Nerevar doing his best to slap him upside the head. He remembered what he told Dreyla, that love was something that kept fighters from becoming monsters. He meant what he said…he just had nothing holding him back from becoming a monster anymore. This just proved that. 

He got up and limped out of the room, towards the exit. He shouldn’t have let that inner rage out. Every time he did it chipped away at his humanity bit by bit. He had nothing and no one to help rebuild the cracks anymore. If he wasn’t careful, he would become a beast as mad as the one he just killed. 

Easy, lad.

“Easy for you to say.” Nevano muttered out loud. “You and Azura…you just sit back and watch the insanity unfold. See? I’m talking to voices no one else can hear. That’s the number one indicator of insanity.”

Nerevar had nothing to say to that. It was just as well. His chest was really starting to hurt, making it even more difficult to breath. He stopped walking and doubled over, his hands on his knees, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the pressure on his ribs. It did nothing. Instead the tight feeling got worse. His stomach dropped as he realized what this was. The familiar tightening of the muscles in his chest emanating from a single burning point, the difficulty in breathing and the closing of his throat…it was yet another attack of this mysterious ailment. He gasped as the muscles in his chest and neck spasmed painfully, making it difficult to draw breath into his lungs. Black dots appeared in his vision as he dropped to his knees. He would pass out soon but he couldn’t out here in the wilderness. He might as well sign his own death sentence right now. 

“Nerevar…help me!” he croaked, clawing at the ground. Almost immediately he felt a foreign strength fill his body, like someone was slipping his skin on like a coat. An invasive presence took control of his limbs, forcing his body to stand up like a puppet master tugging at strings. He didn’t fight it. Instead he concentrated fully on dealing with the pain of both the attack and the broken ribs, forcing life-sustaining air into bruised reluctant lungs while the other entity moved his body. 

‘One stop.’ He thought as he stumbled through the woods. ‘One thing I need to do then Raven Rock.’

XxXxXx

After what felt like an eternity, just as the last of his strength and resolve were failing, the Bulwark came into sight, filling him with relief. He could feel that Nerevar was getting tired. He could only maintain a physical presence for so long and he was pushing his limits. Nevano knew that once Nerevar retreated from this physical form, all of Nevano’s previous fatigue would come crashing back but would be compounded by Nerevar’s own exhaustion. At least he could pass out here and be dragged to safety by a patrolling guard. He was on a patrol route and there was a guard due at the point in twenty minutes. And here Veleth thought he was strange for memorizing the patrol routes. 

What he didn’t count on was the two guards were scrubbing at the Bulwark. Oh good. That made things much easier. He tried to call out to them but Nerevar chose that moment to abruptly withdraw. All that came out was a crackling groan as his legs turned to jelly and unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. He watched as the two jumped, dropped their brushes and ran over to him. At least he thought there were two. They were perfect mirrors of each other in their movements and appearance. Nevano blinked. He didn’t think he was that oxygen starved that he was seeing double…

“Hey, Nevano, what happened?” The one on the right asked as he dragged Nevano up.

“You look…like how we look after a double shift of netch crap duty.” The left said. Nevano blinked. They were speaking independently of each other. He didn’t get hit in the head…not that hard anyway. 

“Hey, Zeb, we should get him to the captain…”

“No, Min, he needs to see Aphia. C’mon, Veleth won’t get upset if we shirk netch crap duty for this.” Oh wait…twins! How could he forget about the twins? 

“Do me a favor.” Nevano tried to keep him voice from slurring as he was slung between the two guards. “Someone send a message to Neloth that the next time he wants me to kill his demented, undead apprentices…I’ll chuck the heartstone at his head instead of at his mushroom fortress!”

The last thing he heard before he passed out was one twin wondering out loud “Did he really throw a heartstone at the Telvanni’s tower?” 

Yes. Yes he did. It was completely worth it.

XxXxXx

Several days later found Nevano in his favorite corner of the Retching Netch, polishing out a knick in Truefire’s blade. He had been keeping to himself since he had gotten his ribs fixed. That brush with insanity had rattled him more than a little. Nerevar, still exhausted from helping him get to Raven Rock, had been completely silent as well. He wasn’t so sure if he was upset at the silence or relieved. He knew he wasn’t insane per say. Nerevar was…part of him. He was the embodiment of the Chimeri general. He was Nevano but he was also Nerevar. That wasn’t insanity was it? 

Nevano rested his foot against the table, propping Truefire against his knee so he could get a better look at the knick. It was far worse than he thought. He shouldn’t have pushed the sword as hard as he had. No one could fix the legendary blade if he broke it. He grunted and polished at it, working the knick out particle by particle. 

He was certainly different than Ildari, who had never heard voices up until the heartstone incident. Was he doomed to end up like Ildari? Nerevar never tried to take over his mind…if anything he wasn’t all that intrusive. He would let Nevano know if he approved or disapproved of something but never tried to convince Nevano to act otherwise. He only took over when Nevano was about to get killed and even then he often waited for Nevano to ask for help. Ildari’s voices would have eventually told her to wipe the island clean of all life. She was never offered a choice. Was he insane? Maybe…but not insane like Ildari had been insane. The thought loosened the knot in his stomach a bit.

“Do you have a moment?” Nevano glanced up to see Adril Arano standing over him. Instead of his normally aloof look there was a tight glint of worry in his eyes. Nevano wordlessly nodded at a nearby chair, not pausing in his work on Truefire.

“After everything you’ve already done for Raven Rock, I hate to ask you for more but I can’t risk Councilor Morvayn being killed.” 

“Well, if you wanted my full attention, that definitely got it.” Nevano blinked. “What in Azura’s name makes you think he’s going to get killed? Well, other than the obvious dangers of Solstheim that is.”

“The Ulen Family of House Hlaalu, a rival Great House, has placed a deathmark on the councilor’s head.”

“Why specifically?” Nevano ran his thumb over the edge of the blade, testing the perfection of the edge.

“I can’t go into great detail but Councilor Morvayn once ordered the execution of one of the family members and I think there are hostile members of House Hlaalu living undercover in Raven Rock.” Adril said tersely. “I only have my suspicions. Councilor Morvayn seems to think I’m paranoid but I don’t want to wake up one morning and find him dead!”

“Paranoia is good to have in healthy doses.” Nevano said pointedly, not taking his eyes off his sword. Truefire flared briefly in response to his emotions.

“I deserve that, don’t I?” Adril sighed. “As an outsider, you have a better chance of discovering who might be behind this. As the renowned fighter you are, you stand a better chance of defending yourself against any sort of hostilities.”

“You did deserve that.” Nevano jerked his thumb back as the sharp blade split the skin, drawing a few drops of blood. There was a small hiss as a small flame burned off the drop of blood that landed on the blade. “Alright. I’ll help. Mostly because you finally admitted, somewhat, that you acted like an ass. Oh, and I don’t want to see Morvayn get killed either. Out of all the councilors I’ve delt with, I like him best. He doesn’t give me a headache.” Nevano finally took his foot off the table and sat up, meeting Adril’s eyes. “Do you have something for me to go by or am I working on a wing and a prayer?”

“I cannot accuse anyone based on a haunch…”

“Right, go talk to the only one here more paranoid than you.” Nevano sheathed Truefire as he stood up. “And one whose gut has never been wrong.”

“I was going to suggest Geldis here.” Adril said dryly. “He’s been here longer.”

Nevano paused and glared at Adril, sending the mer back a step in surprise at the anger and spark of hatred. “If I were you, I wouldn’t keep making those subtle little insults at those I consider near and dear to me, especially after you just asked for my help. That’s called bad politics. Veleth might hate the game and refuse to play but I WILL play and you might not like the rules I play by. You want my help, fine…but you keep your little remarks to yourself.”

Fuming slightly Nevano stormed outside and snagged a rather disgruntled captain from his patrol route and wordlessly dragged him to his dark corner of the Retching Netch and shoved him into a chair. Fortunately Adril had left. Nevano couldn’t guarantee he would be as polite as he was a minute ago. 

“Tell me about these Hlaalu assassins.”

“Not much I can tell you really.” Veleth didn’t sound surprised at the topic at all. At least he knew what was going on. “The first attempt happened before I got here and they’ve been clever at evading all attempts at us trying to locate them since. Someone has been leaving offerings at the Ulen’s tomb but they avoid the temple when we tried to wait for them.”

“You don’t say.” Nevano said in a flat voice, tapping his nails on the table. “That has got to be the most transparent plan I’ve ever heard of. Get someone drunk enough to loosen lips, threaten to beat someone into the ground, sleep with their mother if you have to. Something…creative!”

“Sleep with their mother?”

“Well, yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Would you really sleep with someone’s mother?”

“Depends on who it is. Different people require different plans.” Nevano said easily, enjoying himself. Scandalizing Veleth was about as easy as scandalizing Gunjar except Veleth wasn’t as shocked as he was disapproving. That took some of the fun out of it. “However, I need to know who you think it is. You can’t tell me that your gut hasn’t been growling at someone.”

Nevano grinned wickedly as Veleth made a face. Oh, he could see that the son of the most infamously paranoid fetcher in Morrowind did not appreciate his gift at all. The kid KNEW who was behind this but his rigid moral conscious was heavily resenting pointing fingers without proof. Nevano knew he just needed one more good push and he should be able to get past that annoying conscious and make the captain sing. “C’mon, Bull. That magic Veleth gut has saved many lives before. Use it to save one more life. Lleril Morvayn’s life.”

“Fine.” Veleth huffed, glaring at the extortion. Or the nickname. Or both. “Severin.”

“See? Was that so hard?”

“There’s no concrete evidence against them. I can’t just act on a haunch.”

“Yeah, well, I can. Quit thinking so uptight over rules. Act less like an Imperial and more like a Dunmer and cheat a little.” Nevano grinned even wider when Veleth growled at him, “Oh look, there’s that temper I heard so much about. Seems this place hasn’t knocked it out of you after all, you just tried to bury it.”

“I…what?”

“Ok, I have a plan.” Nevano switched topics on Veleth abruptly, a tactic that worked so well on everyone. “Your gut is actually lining up with the suspicions I’ve had from the beginning. There’s no way Mirri is Tilisu and Vendil’s daughter unless the so-called parents had her when they were five years old.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who noticed that…” Veleth muttered.

“And yet no one called them out on the shoddy façade.” Nevano held up his hands at Veleth’s glare. “Mirri is our way in.”

“How so?”

“Mirri has been flirting with me nonstop since I first stepped foot here. I think it’s time I get to know her.”

“Mirri flirts with everyone.” Veleth said flatly. “She actually got so aggressive she scared the twins. I don’t care what my men do off-duty but I told them all to stay away from that one. Be careful going after her. She just…rubs me the wrong way. Sets my teeth on edge. I can’t even listen to her speak without wanting to shove a dagger through her throat to shut her up.”

“Hilariously, the last time I saw Mirri talking to you I thought Dreyla was going to try to claw her eyes out with her bare hands.” Nevano snickered when Veleth perked up at that tidbit. “However, I need you to keep Vendil and Tilisu occupied for a few hours. I don’t want them interrupting. I’m sure you can think of something to keep them in town.”

“Well…it WILL get you inside the manor. Legally, at least.”

“I’ll be happy to argue the loopholes of legality with you later. One catch; our esteemed councilors can’t know what I’m about to do.” Nevano crossed his arms, “We’ll hand them whatever I find and leave the fine details out. I don’t believe in letting council members know how I got the information. Especially not Adril. He doesn’t need to know what I’m up to. He can deal with whatever fallout happens later.”

“For once we are in perfect agreement.”

“We still got plenty of time. Let’s get this over with.”

“Vendil and Tilisu should be out and around the town. I think I can come up with something to suitably occupy them. Or I’ll get the twins to be annoying. Good luck.”

Nevano didn’t have to go far. He rented a room from Geldis and went into the small room. He removed his weapons belt that held Truefire and Hopesflame and laid them on the bed along with Bonebiter and his arrows and covered them with the blanket. From his pack he removed a simple silver ring and exchanged it for his moon-and-star ring. That he slipped into a small pouch for safekeeping. He made sure Wraithguard and Keening were secure in his pack before sliding the whole thing under the bed. Then he went out and ordered a few bottles of sujamma. All he had to do was wait. 

He wasn’t disappointed. Mirri came in, her hips swaying in such a way that it made a man want to slide his arm around her to keep her steady. The only problem was that most of the men in Raven Rock were now immune to her allure. Nevano watched her, really watched her; she was seductive, of course, but not sweetly seductive, like a girl hoping for a first date but dangerously so, like a viper searching for prey. He was both intrigued and repelled by the idea. He was eager to have a drink with her but he would make sure he was across the table from her.

“Drinking alone?”

“Not unless you’d do me the honor and join me.” Nevano smiled. 

“It’s not often a good looking man has the manners to offer a girl a drink.”

“The women who raised me would be happy to hear I remember how to treat a lady.” Nevano lied smoothly, passing her a drink. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Mirri said, taking a quick swig. “I’ve seen you coming and going the past few weeks. Most adventurers don’t stay this long…or don’t come back.”

“This isn’t my first trip here.” Nevano smiled. “I’m familiar with Solstheim’s dangers. I’m actually waiting for a friend to return. After he comes back I suppose we’ll move on. Haven’t decided yet.”

“A second trip to Solstheim? More than a common adventurer then?”

“I guess you could say that. I prefer wanderer though. I seem to do more wandering than I do adventuring.” That was true enough. “What about you?”

“Oh my family has a saltrice plantation just east of Safepoint Vvarden. We came here because we wanted to help and Raven Rock was in dire need of help.”

“That was generous.” Nevano smiled. “You don’t hear about generosity like that often and I’ve traveled to a lot of places.”

“I enjoy helping people but I admit it gets lonely here sometimes.” Mirri shot him a look that was so filled with ravenous desire that for an instant he felt like his blood had caught on fire. Nevano clamped down on the stirrings of interest. He didn’t want to go down that route if he could help it. 

“A sweet generous girl like you?” Nevano took a generous gulp of sujamma. “I’m surprised your father isn’t beating men off you.” 

“I’m afraid that is exactly what’s going on!” 

Nevano mentally sighed. This polite nothing was starting to get tedious. She was a good liar, this one. He would have believed her…had she not mentioned a saltrice plantation near Vvarden. Vvarden was the second to last in the line of Safepoints going east. There were no saltrice plantations out there because saltrice didn’t grow in the rocky area west of Necrom. She had delivered that lie with such perfect conviction she probably had little trouble convincing most of the people here of that truth. Certainly the two councilors, who had never been on the mainland outside of Blacklight, wouldn’t have caught that.

They made small talk for another hour or so, Nevano trying every trick he knew while supplying her with more alcohol, doing his best to get her to slip up. Never once did she deviate from her original story. If anything she made it seem even more believable, keeping perfect track of all her lies. Nevano couldn’t help but admire her for that even as he mentally cursed the sujamma for not doing its job in tripping her up. Maybe he should have gotten his mazte and sujamma shots…

“So…my parents won’t be back for a while.” Mirri ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Want to come back to my place?”

“I’d love to.” Nevano smiled blandly at the clichéd exchange. He knew exactly where this was headed and he couldn’t say he was fully committed to it yet. Part of him was greatly curious, intrigued by the earlier look she had given him that had sent his senses on over-drive but the other part was screaming at him that she was dangerous and he should run in the other direction. He sighed quietly as he followed her towards the Severin manor on the outskirts of the town. At least he was getting into the manor. 

XxXxXx

Nevano had to admit that most rumors about him were true. He loved the company of women and had no hesitation in taking them to bed if they were so willing. He never did anything to curb or correct the rumors, indeed they were often amusing, especially the obviously, glaringly, over-exaggerated ones. Among his favorites was the one where he had bedded Queen Barenziah while he was in Mournhold to revoke the Dark Brotherhood writ on his head. Another was that Almalexia had confused him for Nerevar and had him on the floor of her temple. The final one was that Azura herself had an interest in him beyond that of her champion and was planning on taking him to her realm in Moonshadow to be kept at her side as he consort for all of time. The first was unfortunately not true, the second was fortunately not true and the third was also not true but thoroughly scared him that it could be true. 

Nevano let Mirri set the pace. This wasn’t for him, not at all. This was for her, to loosen her up, for her to trust him, for her to vent her pent up sexual frustration on until she felt like she could talk to him. So when she threw him on her bed, he didn’t protest. When she straddled his waist and crushed her lips to his, he didn’t do anything to dissuade her. There was no love or affection in that kiss, oh no. She was testing him, seeing just how far he was willing to let her go. He knew he had made the correct choice when she hummed against his lips in approval. 

She rocked against him, the alcohol in her blood destroying whatever inhibitions she might have had. Nevano doubted she had many though. Anyone who flirted as shamelessly as she did didn’t have many hesitations in bed. His fingers sought out the leather ties that held her shirt closed and slid them out of their loops, one at a time. Her groan turned into a growl, her lust and impatience growing at his deliberate slowness. He didn’t increase his pace though. Not yet. 

She began to claw at him, trying to find the buckles that held his armor on. He smiled at the clumsy attempts. His armor was deliberately complicated. Still he didn’t want her exasperation to start to over-ride her desire so he threw her a bone and popped a few of the buckles off, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his skin beneath. She purred, obviously pleased at his lack of clothing under the armor. She continued to seek out buckles and this time succeeded, exposing more of him. The feeling of her fingers against sensitive skin made Nevano’s heart rate increase a few beats, a small pool of warmth growing in the pit of his belly. All her pulling and tugging at him was starting to elicit a response from his body.

He finally pulled her shirt off, carelessly tossing it off somewhere in a corner of the room. He was pleased to note she wasn’t wearing a brassier. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who didn’t believe in wearing underclothes. She was still busy with his armor, allowing him to get a good look at her. She really was a beautiful girl, her body lean and her muscles toned. Her skin had more grey tones in it than his did. He ran a hand over her belly, oddly fascinated at the contrast of his blue-grey skin tone to her ash grey color. Her muscles tightened and goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch. She was fairly muscular for the daughter of a wealthy family. 

His armor fell away finally and Mirri purred. He looked up to see her lick her lips and a surge of primal lust ignited the small pool of arousal in his belly. Suddenly he was warm all over and there were too many clothes on both him and the woman sitting on his lower body. He resumed undressing her, his hands a bit rougher as all pretense of gentleness left his mind. Mirri grinned, baring her teeth at him, obviously well pleased with his new sense of urgency. She helped him out, shimmying her waist as he ripped her pants and underwear off. He groaned out loud as the smell of her arousal hit him full force. He took a deep lungful of her smell, his body starting to shake as all his senses woke up full force. She was 

“These clothes need to go.” She whispered in his ear, running her tongue along the edge of his ear. “I hope you’re wearing as little under them as you were up top.”

He whimpered as she slid down his chest and stomach. His whole body felt like it was on fire and every little touch of her skin on his left little sparks in their wake. Suddenly HE was the impatient one and she was moving too slow. 

His chausses were nowhere near as complicated as his cuirass. She deftly removed his belt and hooked her fingers over the edge of his pants. He looked down at her. She kissed him just below his navel, by the gods she was good at setting his blood on fire, and pulled the last of his clothing off. He groaned in relief as his member was freed. 

“Oh very nice.” She murmured, crawling back up to him. He was almost offended by that. Almost. He wasn’t a particularly big mer but why did they all think that ALL of him was small? Well, at least the looks on their faces when he proved them wrong were amusing. It made up for it…and the rumor storm would swirl up again.

“Just ‘nice’, hmm?” He murmured as she threaded her fingers through his hair and grabbed hold before bruising his lips in another harsh, limit-pushing kiss. “I think…that ‘nice’…only belongs to old ladies lap dogs and little princesses’ tea parties.”

This was no longer about being nice. This was never about being nice. They were two spies, one seeking to end a life, the other looking to protect it, now locked in a battle to find the truth, both using their bodies as a means to an end. Nevano flipped their positions around, one hand pinning her hands above her head. She grinned wildly at him, baring her teeth as she wrapped her legs around his waist. It was all the invitation he needed. He made sure to fill the manor with Mirri’s screams until his own climaxing bellow mingled with hers and died down with a sigh. 

XxXxXx

An hour later Nevano lay stretched out on his stomach, eyes mostly closed as he enjoyed the feeling of Mirri tracing the silvery scars that criss-crossed his back and shoulders like a road map. The only reason he wasn’t a purring puddle under her ministrations was because he was keeping an eye out for any sign that she might have caught on to him and was about to bury a dagger in his back. Until that dagger made an appearance however, he was going to enjoy the feel of her fingers dancing across the pale raised lines, leaving little shivers in their wake. He wouldn’t admit it but it had been a while since he allowed himself this sort of luxury and he was a little attention-starved. Mindlessly rutting was one thing but being touched like this, by someone who was actively thinking about the person they were touching, was completely another. It touched at the chasm in his soul, one he desperately wanted to fill but at the same time wanted to ignore. 

“Why are you here, Mirri?” he murmured, turning his head slightly so he wasn’t completely muffled by the pillow. 

“I thought our intentions were very apparent.” She giggled. 

“I meant on Solstheim.”

“That’s a long story. I hate it here.” She admitted, walking her fingers up his spine, one vertebra at a time, making Nevano shiver, “I can’t wait to leave this miserable place.”

“Your parents seem to like it here.”

“My parents…right.” She said slowly, sobering up a bit, “They have their own plans. I’m stuck on the side. Bored. Unless a handsome stranger like you feels like paying me a bit of attention.”

“I enjoy paying attention to you.” Nevano smiled blandly through the lie, “You’re a fun girl.”

“Such a flatterer.” She smirked hazily and sprawled on her back next to him, giving him a good view of her bare torso. However something else beyond her impressive breasts caught his attention. On the bedside table was Mirri’s dagger. That in and of itself was nor remarkable but the red seal on the scabbard, almost small enough to miss, stood out. He knew that seal, had seen it many times before sometimes far too close for comfort. That red intertwining seal was the mark of the Morag Tong, the guild of assassins. So they were right to fear assassins after all. 

“Will you stay a while?”

The question surprised him. It certainly wasn’t the question usually asked by most one-night stands. In fact, most girls were usually giving him a look that it was probably time for him to consider leaving at this point. “I can.”

“Oh good.” Mirri muttered drowsily. Nevano watched until the rise and fall of her chest evened out into the unmistakable rhythm of sleep before carefully rising from the bed. Not yet bothering with clothing he padded quietly from Mirri’s room and toward the door at the end of the hallway that he was fairly certain led to the master bedroom. If there was one thing he had learned over the years it was that most people felt most comfortable leaving important (or incriminating) documents in their bedrooms. They had a false sense of privacy there, an extra feel of security that no one would breech the sanctity of a private bedroom. They were wrong, of course. If anything, it was the first place that was ransacked. He wasn’t disappointed either. It was almost depressingly easy. The only safe in the room contained a letter signed “Ulen”. 

“Always burn your mail.” Nevano muttered to himself. Clutching the letter he quickly made his way back to Mirri’s room and hastily pulled on his pants and boots. He could bother with the rest later. 

“So you know.” He froze, his hand inches from the door, Mirri’s voice holding him in place more effectively than any other restraint. He turned to see her watching him with an unreadable expression. He felt more naked than he had when his clothes were in a heap on the floor. He had left Truefire and Hopesflame back with his pack at the Retching Netch. He had his dagger hidden in his boot as always but it was the backup for the backup for the backup. Seeing as he was caught, he figured to go for honesty instead of trying to lie his way out of it. 

“That was the whole point of this.”

“I see.” She sounded completely unsurprised but Nevano could hear a note of wistfulness in there. She had been hoping against hope that this might have had a note of truth to it. Now that she had complete confirmation that this was not, her defenses would go up. He sighed and stuffed his hand into a small pouch on the back of his belt, slipping his ring back on. 

“Mirri, I need you to tell me why.” She looked up as his voice took on an edge of authority, meeting his eyes full on. As soon as she did, he knew that he had her; the ring’s power influencing her to want to listen to him, to trust his words. 

“I volunteered for this. Vendil? He’s not my father. Far from it. We aren’t even related. I…I loved him. Tilisu…that s’wit. She’s the one who insisted we keep up appearances even behind closed doors! He hasn’t so much as looked at me since we got here but I can hear them every night through the walls. She ruined everything. I’ve had nothing to do. I couldn’t ever convince the guard for a romp or two, especially with that uptight captain thinking it’s for personal gain. He’s one to talk, flirting with that Dreyla girl. The town is boring and hardly any adventurers come through anymore…” Nevano sighed. Azura save him but he felt sorry for the lonely assassin. “That letter probably mentions Ashfallow Citadel. Vendil and Tilisu will take off for the place like a pair of startled hares once they hear I brought you here, mark my words. Be careful though. There are a lot of Morag Tong assassins there.”

“Mirri…you know how this will end.”

“I knew the instant you came back from Fort Frostmoth.” She said with a shrug, “You weren’t like the normal brand of adventurer. I saw your face, your eyes. I knew who you were even if no one else believed me. Even after the guard started gossiping, no one believed me. I told Vendil that he needed to act then, when Veleth was still limping and you had gone off to the mine. But he wouldn’t listen to me. The plan will fall apart. You freed up the guard and their attention. He will never get another chance.”

“You know you could…”

“Could what?” She stopped him. “You could let me go and I could walk away but the Morag Tong would never release me. I would be hunted for the rest of my life, no matter how hard I try to hide myself in the farthest most miserable corner of Tamriel. No, my life was forfeit the moment the Nerevarine stepped foot in Raven Rock. Oh yes I know who you are. You came here wearing those lenses but you haven’t in a while. I saw your eyes. I think every female mer in Tamriel has dreamed of those eyes at least once. It’s not all bad…I got to bed Morrowind’s greatest hero. Unfortunately, I still need to try to help Vendil. You understand…I can’t stop loving him. Captain Veleth will have to try to finish this alone because now we both die.”

Nevano barely had time to think before Mirri lunged at him, her dagger drawn faster than his eyes could register. He quickly drew his own dagger, barely dropping himself into a defensive stance before Mirri was upon him. Strangely she did nothing to try to break his defenses, instead she threw herself on him, impaling herself on his dagger. Nevano grabbed her hand before she could try to stab him in the back but her hand went limp in his grasp instead of fighting his hold. To his great surprise she used her last breath to kiss him full on the mouth, a long and lingering kiss that imparted the last wisps of air of her life into his mouth. He waited until her body was fully limp and starting to lose its heat before he gently lowered her to the ground. He picked up the last of his clothes and left the manor. 

XxXxXx

As soon as he stepped outside, still shrugging into his armor, the twins, Minassour and Zebdusipal, came running up to him. 

“Nevano!” One of them said. Nevano really couldn’t tell them apart. “We were told to come looking for you.”

“Captain Veleth asked if we could help keep track of Tilisu and Vendil Severin…”

“And we were doing a good job…”

“I think they were actually starting to get annoyed with us…” 

“But then Second Councilor Adril started talking to Brelo and Drarana and asked them to go out and do something…”

“We had to report to Veleth. Those two are worthless…”

“Right before we ran off, Vendil had asked where Mirri was and got upset when someone said she was last seen drinking with you…”

“Veleth said to come find you while he talked to Councilor Arano…”

“So here we are and…”

“STOP!” Nevano held his head. “I get vertigo when you two do that. Hitting every sort of extreme today I don’t need to add a migraine on top of that. What happened and only ONE of you tell me.”

“Tilisu and Vendil are gone.” The twins said together. 

“That…wasn’t much better.” Nevano winced. “I kinda already figured those two would take off. Am I safe in assuming that the small volcano of fury I can feel building up is our favorite captain?”

“I haven’t seen him THIS mad since we got that one idiot in that we had to train from the ground up and it turns out he was utterly hopeless at even HOLDING a sword.” The twin on the right said. Nevano was guessing it was Zebdusipal. He seemed to have slightly darker red eyes. At least Nevano thought it was Zebdusipal. The only one who could tell them apart was Veleth. “I really thought he was going to send that stupid fetcher back to Blacklight in a bloody box. Or at least with a politely rude note pinned to his collar with a knife.”

“No, Councilor Morvayn stopped him remember?”

“Oh yeah that’s right. We went through some brutal training workouts for a while after that until he burned through that temper.”

“You two are rambling…” Nevano sighed.

“Oh, sorry.” Minassour said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “He’s pacing a hole over by the Bulwark. I’d get your gear and hurry. He might leave without you.”

XxXxXx 

Veleth frowned as Nevano stopped for the third time to vomit in a bush, “Alright, this time, when I ask ‘are you alright?’ you are not allowed to brush me off.”

“Mirri poisoned me.” Nevano said bluntly, spitting out the last bit of bile. 

“Excuse me, what?!”

“Don’t worry. I had my Date Ring on.” The look on Veleth’s face was absolutely priceless. Totally worth making up the name on the spot. “I’m already immune to diseases and my necklace gives me some protection from paralysis so this protects against poisons. It’s not perfect. I’m really not a good enchanter and I didn’t have enough to pay a mage to enchant it for me at the time so it makes me sick as a dog as it rejects the poisons from my body. I’ll be fine once we get to Ashfallow.”

“Why do you have a…what did you call that thing?”

“My Date Ring? Maybe I should all it my One-Night-Stand Ring. Oh, even better, One-Ring-Under-Girl-And-Sheets!” Nevano snickered to himself at the look on Veleth’s face. This was too much fun. “Mirri is not the first girl to try to poison me. Poison lipstick though…that’s a new one. Usually it’s poisoned drinks or a poisoned hair pin that has ‘accidentally’ slipped. Definitely dangerous, especially since she probably poisoned herself at the same time but she had already resigned herself to die so therefore highly effective…except I didn’t die. Rather tragic really.”

“What are you doing that would make that many women try to poison you?”

“I breathed.” Nevano caught sight of Veleth’s flat look. Damn. He was over his shock and no longer amused at Nevano’s attempts at levity. “Not all my ‘dates’ are for pleasure. Some, like Mirri, were merely steps in completing whatever mission I’m working on. Most of those girls are already on the lookout for something or someone and are most likely under orders to kill me. Sometimes it’s beneficial to pretend to be dead and other times, like with Mirri, someone dies…and it’s not me. I generally don’t LIKE killing them but it’s unavoidable sometimes unfortunately.”

Veleth frowned but stayed quiet. Nevano didn’t push him. Using his body as a means to an end was nothing new but it probably rang discordantly in the soldier’s mind. It did with most people but most people had more respect for themselves than Nevano did. He had long since lost any reservations over using himself like that. It was just the way it was. Poor kid probably- 

“So that was why I kept smelling sweat, sex and shame.”

Nevano burst out laughing, taken completely by surprise. “So there IS a bit of a sense of humor in there! You should let it out more often.”

“I do need to maintain an image you know.” Somehow or another, Veleth managed to keep a straight face, “Around you though…you would tarnish anyone’s image so why bother maintaining one?”

“I take great pride in doing that!” Nevano grinned. “Though I will correct you on one thing. There was no shame. Shameless would be a better description. She was a pretty girl after all.”

Veleth held up a hand to stop him and pointed to a seemingly random spot on the ground. Nevano narrowed his eyes as he scanned the ashy foliage. A small drip of blood was splashed on a rock, almost buried underneath windblown ash. Nevano raised an eyebrow, highly impressed with the captain’s tracking skills. 

“We’re almost to Ashfallow Citadel.” He whispered, “It’s entirely too quiet for the amount of people we are assuming are around here. We should have run across my men by now.”

“I hate to break it to you…”

“I know.” A muscle in Veleth’s jaw leaped and his eyes burned. “As soon as Adril said he sent those two I knew. If he had asked me I would have given him the names of those more suited for tracking and far more experienced with being in the wilderness. Instead he tried to do my job for me.”

“ ‘These two’?” Nevano asked. “Which ‘these two’ and why is it so bad they are out here?”

“Raven Rock was their first assignment outside of Blacklight.” The fire in his eyes burned brighter, making Nevano shift away a bit. “This was a death sentence to them, especially against a tower full of Morag Tong assassins. Ever since the mine was closed the men that were sent here were no longer as well trained or as experienced as I would have liked. I can train them easy enough but the experience part is a bit harder. These two were among the ones so spooked by the ash spawn I had to send them to the other side of Raven Rock so they wouldn’t demoralize the whole guard. Let’s go. I’m hoping against hope that we might find them alive.”

“Hope for the best, expect the worst?”

“Exactly.”

They continued on, their way marked for them by a trail of blood that went from a few drops sprinkled here and there to massive puddles violently splashed against stones fallen from the citadel. Nevano could feel Veleth’s temper rising with every bit of blood they passed. Halfway up the steps to the citadel they found the first body.

“Brelo…” Veleth murmured, crouching down next to the dead guard. “Kid was young, still learning to find his courage. Given a few months he would have toughened up enough to be just as good as the others. His parents are going to be very upset about this. They had vehemently opposed his coming here and I agreed with them but they didn’t have the influence to keep him home unfortunately. I no longer have the power to be able to request they serve time at the Safepoints first. He would have benefited greatly from serving time at Kogo first.”

A few steps further up they found the second body. 

“Drarana. She had a few years on Brelo but all of it was city patrol. She wasn’t used to creatures more frightening than a stray dog so when the ash spawn showed up she was really unnerved. Wasn’t her fault, she simply didn’t have experience. I had started sending her out with the twins on border patrols because those two scare up just about every strange animal on the island because they like catching them. Her first night in the Bulwark those two idiots had caught an ash hopper and snuck in into the barracks and it got into her bunk. Didn’t think anyone could scream that high. Both twins walked around with a handprint on their faces for a few days after she slapped them. It was too amusing for me to say anything about it.” Veleth sat back on his heels. “I really hate to add their names to the stone.”

“There are not many people who honor their men like that. Especially in these far-flung outposts.” Nevano put a hand on Veleth’s shoulder. “You allow them to live on where others would let them be forgotten, another ghost on this island. C’mon. Let’s go kill their killers.”

“Our first opportunity is at the top of these stairs.”

“Oh good, you saw him too.” Nevano grinned widely and drew his bow. “I do believe it’s time to introduce you to Bonebiter.”

“It’s impossible to make that shot from here.” Veleth said. “Especially with a chitin bow.”

“Sit back and watch me do the impossible then.”

Nevano lined up the shot, enjoying the freedom of movement now that his ribs weren’t grinding against each other. He could just make out the assassin at the top of the stairs, his armor the same color as his surroundings, making him almost invisible. He wouldn’t try this shot with any other bow but he knew what Bonebiter was capable of and knew just how to coax out the bow’s full potential. He let loose the arrow and watched as it flew through the air to punch clean the chitin armor with a loud crack and sent the assassin flying backwards in a shower of blood. 

“Nasty enchantment on that bow.”

“A gift from Sul-Matuul. This is Bonebiter, the bow that once belonged to the Ashkhan Sul-Senipul.”

“Are you comfortable using that thing the whole way through?”

“I’m content using either the swords or my bow if that’s what you’re asking.” Nevano said, “I like to limit the numbers before they reach me. I’m not a big elf in heavy armor like you so I shoot first then Hopesfire and Trueflame clean up the rest. As to what I know you’re getting at…you go in first, I’ll back you up. Just don’t flinch when an arrow goes over your shoulder.” 

Veleth just smirked at him.

Nevano made the assumption that fighting with Veleth would be much like fighting with Gunjar. After all there were many similarities between the two; both wore heavy armor and both seemed to favor heavy, two-handed weapons. However, that was where the similarities stopped. Nevano scolded himself for making such assumptions. Veleth was nothing like Gunjar. Gunjar fought like a human. He was very skillful, that was obvious, but he moved…like a human. There was nothing wrong about that per say. If anything Nevano was often impressed at how skilled humans managed to get in the short amount of time they had but they never had the time to learn how to move like an elf. 

Fighting with Veleth was a rush he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Veleth, despite the heavy armor that probably all weighed more than Nevano himself, moved with the fluidity and grace that only an elf with an entire human’s lifespan worth of experience could obtain. Nevano had only seen him fight once and that was at the tail end of an exhausting fight and injured. He was at full strength now and thirsty for the blood of those who killed his men. Nevano was rather glad he was behind him. Veleth was a master with that axe, using it as fluidly and almost as fast as Nevano handled Truefire and Hopesflame. Nevano fired off deadly arrows, sometimes close enough that Veleth had to feel the rush of ash as they whistled past him. To his credit, he never once flinched. They tore through the citadel together, leaving a bloody swath behind them. Then they came to a spot where two spike gates trembled ominously against the wall.

“Hang on, Bull.” Nevano stepped forward. “Take a breather and let me.”

The floor was littered with pressure plates, ones that were set extraordinarily sensitive. Even though Nevano was giving them plenty of room, they still creaked. If Veleth had tried, he would have set off the pressure plates and the spike door. There was something to be said for being small and light after all. After disarming the trap he gingerly tested a plate to see if he was successful and was pleased to see he hadn’t lost his touch after all. 

“Vendil should be just up ahead. This place isn’t all that big.” Veleth said, still hesitant about touch the plates. Nevano didn’t blame him. 

“Tilisu will be there as well.” Nevano tapped his fingers. “And more than likely several more Morag Tong.”

“It’ll be a tough fight.” Veleth rolled his shoulders, popping the joints. “But a satisfying one.”

“Just don’t get flanked again.”

“Shut up.” 

Half an hour later the two blood-splattered mer left Ashfallow Citadel, stopping to retrieve the bodies of the two fallen Redoran guard before headed home to Raven Rock, their job complete. 

XxXxXx

A/N: This scene contains a bonus scene. I'll let you guess which one.


	25. Crossroads

Chapter 24

Crossroads

XxXxXx

4E 201 - Raven Rock, Solstheim

Nevano was blissfully asleep, out like a rock. He had been going nonstop since he had arrived in Solstheim and it had taken a few days for him to calm down enough to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Finally, with a little help from Geldis who was determined to find a drink that would make him flinch, he found that black oblivion that saw him out cold for well over twelve hours. That is, until he was tossed clean off the bed.

“F’ve m’re min’mphf…” Nevano blindly groped around and dragged over a pillow to bury his face in it. Or was it a blanket? It was soft and still warm with his body heat, he couldn’t care less what article of bedclothes it was. He’d fall back asleep on the floor if he had to. 

“You need to get up.”

“Whhhhhy?” Nevano was well aware that he sounded like a child but the LAST thing he wanted to hear right now was Veleth barking orders at him. He wasn’t one of his Redoran guard! Then something fell on his head.

“I will drag you out of here naked if I have to. Hurry up!”

“Why?” Nevano growled, pulling his pants off his face.

“Because I think there’s a dragon outside.”

THAT snapped Nevano fully into the world of consciousness. A dragon? Here? He scrambled up; one leg already shoved into his armor before he was even on his feet. He scrambled into the rest of his armor, threw his weapons at the departing captain and dashed after him, hopping a few steps as he yanked his boots on. 

“This island usually has strange noises echoing on the wind.” Veleth said tersely as they ran through the Retching Netch and outside, passing people who were huddled together in tight, frightened groups. He motioned for the nearby guard to usher them indoors. “Usually I can identify them. Mostly it’s the bull netch calling to the betties but you can hear the bristlebacks, the bears, the spriggans beating off intruders to their ponds, even were-beasts on occasion. The past few months though I’ve been hearing something else, something I couldn’t identify. It’s louder now, coming down from the glacier. No bear or werewolf can make that noise.”

Nevano didn’t have to ask what noise. A low moan rose up a pitch above the wind, gliding upon it, until it burst forth into a guttural scream that silenced every other organic sound on the island. Nevano swallowed hard as the hair stood up on the back of his neck. 

“That’s a dragon alright.” He said thickly, taking his weapons back from Veleth. There was no mistaking that sound. “You hear it once, you never forget it.”

“You said you’ve killed a dragon before.” Veleth said. “Can you help do so again?”

“Of course.” Nevano drew Bonebiter. “Be prepared for a nasty fight. No ash spawn can even compare to a dragon. I’ll take those over a dragon any day. Have every monster on this island line up and I’ll take them over a dragon. I have no idea what kind of flying monster has been sleeping under the ice all these years before Miraak woke it up but if Miraak was the first Dragonborn, then it could very well be some ancient beast that makes Alduin look like a puppy. Our best bet is to fight it just outside the Bulwark. We can get it’s attention before it attacks the town and there’s plenty of room for us to spread out and hopefully reduce casualties.”

“Let’s go then.” 

“Bring them all.” Nevano said, tightening his grip on the bow. “We’re going to need them.”

As they ran through the gate, the roar came again, much louder this time. Ash shook free from the tunnel walls and rained down on their heads from the sheer force of the vibrations. Several of the guard froze in fear. Before Nevano or Veleth could give any reassurance, the twins spoke up.

“Kinda reminds you of the captain on days when Fethis starts accusing him of going after Dreyla for his so-called East Empire Company contracts.” Minnasour snickered. 

“No, remember when that boat from Blacklight was late and if you so much as breathed wrong we got double shifts? THAT growl!” Zebdusipal countered. 

“Or the time-“

“WE GET IT!” Veleth bellowed.

“THAT one!” The twins said at the same time, causing Veleth to groan in exasperation. Nevano openly laughed while the rest of the guard snickered to themselves, the paralyzing sense of fear bleeding out. Nevano remembered Veleth telling him how hard he fought to keep the twins in his ranks and now saw the brilliance in such a move; the twins were not only capable warriors but also they were quite possibly the best moral boosters the guard could possibly have. Thanks to the twins, the rest of the guard willingly moved forward. 

“Alright, listen because I won’t have time to scream it out once we have a dragon roaring in our faces.” Nevano said, feeling oddly loud with only the wind and surf making noise. Everything else had gone eerily quiet. “It won’t land right away. It’s going to fly around, spitting fire or ice or some form of magic attack at us while trying to snag someone for a free flying lesson. Staying on the move is key to surviving. Shoot at the wing joints. The scales covering the rest of the body are ridiculously thick but they thin out there. Once it hits the ground, watch out for the...ah, hell, every angle of a dragon can kill you. If there’s a vulnerable spot it’s the face. Aim for the eyes and pray the thing breathes fire because we can survive that…just don’t take a direct hit. Fan out. Dragons aren’t stupid. They will attack clusters first.”

Nevano watched as they spread out over the beach, a pit of dread filling his stomach. He really didn’t want to see what manner of dragon had been revived on this island. It was one thing when Alduin had been reviving every dragon he could find to build up his army. Then there was the chance that a young, inexperienced dragon would be attacking. They were still incredibly dangerous but a distinct lack of experience made things slightly easier. Miraak didn’t strike him as someone who would have young soldiers serve him. He was fully expecting something with Paarthurnax’s intelligence and Alduin’s strength. 

His sensitive ears picked up the sound of wings flapping and not delicate little bird wings. It was a miniature hurricane that made trees bend in half. Before he could give warning, a pack of ash hoppers tumbled over the cliff and scurried by, throwing themselves into the crashing waves. 

“Safe to say the dragon is almost here.” Nevano said, pulling an arrow free and laying it on Bonebiter’s string. 

“Get ready men.” Veleth said, narrowing his eyes. If he was nervous at all, he hid it perfectly. 

The rushing of wings grew louder, no longer needing an elf’s acute hearing to notice it. Nevano tightened his grip on his bow. All around him, the guard fidgeted a little, their nerves as tight as his bowstring. The only thing keeping them from snapping was their captain’s calm. Even when the dragon roared again, causing trees to shake and rocks to bounce off the cliff, he didn’t flinch. Nevano could see how he became a commander at a young age. 

The dragon burst out over the trees with a roar that made Nevano’s bones vibrate in his body. The dragon twisted in the air like a snake, far more nimble in the air than any other dragon Nevano had encountered. In fact, the dragon looked nothing like the other air-borne reptilians he had seen in Skyrim. This dragon was far more streamlined, more like a snake than a lizard. Even its head was snake-like though no snake had teeth poking out in all angles from its mouth. It circled overhead but strangely didn’t attack. Nevano narrowed his eyes but drew the arrow back on the string, sighting it. He wasn’t about to wait for the dragon to make the first move. 

“Remember! Aim for the…what the?” Nevano looked up, lowering his hands and allowing the string to go slack. Did he just see…? “WAIT! Hold your fire!”

“Have you lost your mind?!” One of the twins shouted. 

“No.” Nevano grinned suddenly. “No, I haven’t…but the idiot riding on the back of that dragon might have!”

“You know, I should be shocked, surprised, outraged, something but after dealing with you for the past month…nothing can surprise me anymore.” Veleth sighed, resting his weapon on one shoulder. “I’m only going to assume that he’s the kid you came here with correct?”

“Correct. I’m…rather impressed. Making an entrance with a dragon, that I didn’t expect.” Nevano watched as the dragon descended to the ground, the earth shaking when it finally landed. “What I want to know is HOW that goofy Nord convinced that…really messed up looking dragon to become his steed.” He shook his head and put away Bonebiter as Gunjar hopped to the ground and walked over to them.

“Nevano!”

“Hey kid.”

“I didn’t expect a welcome committee…” Gunjar looked around at the dumbstruck faces of the poor guard who had no idea what was going on.

“You forgot to send word ahead that you would be arriving via dragonback!” Nevano looked over at the rather disgruntled looking dragon who hissed back at him. “I think I like Odahviing better. He at least looked like a dragon. What is wrong with that thing’s face?”

“That is Sahrotaar. I stopped Miraak from absorbing his soul.” Gunjar grinned over his shoulder at the dragon. Nevano stared. It was official; Gunjar could make friends with anything. 

“So Miraak is dead then.”

“Miraak is dead.” Gunjar grinned broadly as the jaw of every Redoran guard hit the ground. 

“Good job, Dovahkiin. There’s just one more thing.” A slow grin started to creep across Nevano’s face, making everyone, even Veleth, take a calculated step away. Gunjar’s grin wilted into a wince. “There is the matter of our little wager. You know, the one where the last one finished buys the drinks?”

“We didn’t shake on that!”

“Oh yes we did.” Nevano’s grin took on a decidedly wicked look. Veleth took another step away. Even the dragon seemed to shift away. “I’ve been waiting here for you for the past several days. That makes me the winner. AND I think that since all of Raven Rock was rather alarmed and these poor Redoran guard thought they were going to have to fight a dragon…drinks are on you tonight!” 

The look on Gunjar’s face as the twins cheered and hustled him back into Raven Rock with the rest of the guard made Nevano laugh. Next to him, Veleth eyed the dragon with misgivings. “I hope he fed that thing…”

Sahrotaar hissed in reply.

XxXxXx

Later, after the furor in the Retching Netch died down, Nevano climbed up to the top of the Bulwark and sat watching the dark water below him ebb and flow. It was funny how everything had led him to this point. Several months ago, running from that dragon with his hands tied behind his back, had seemed a lifetime ago. He had thought he would have slipped into complete obscurity, living the lonely live of a wanderer with no particular goal. He never counted on this. If he were honest with himself, he was rather happy it turned out this way. It definitely wasn’t boring. Frustrating and infuriating at times, but definitely not boring. 

“For someone who hates the ocean I sure do find you staring at it a lot.” Nevano smiled as Gunjar sat down heavily next to him.

“You aren’t passed out drunk under a table?”

“I ran out of money before I could get drunk.”

“That’s what happens when you make a bet with a Dunmer.”

“No, this is what happens when I make bets with YOU.” Gunjar nudged his shoulder. “I’m never taking a bet from you again.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Once again, you are trying to evade.”

“Actually no. I was thinking about what you said, back when we left Tel Mithryn.” Nevano picked up a hardened clump of ash and turned it over in his fingers. “About how you don’t care about what kings and jarls and councilors think…that you do it for the people who truly care. Do you truly believe that or did you just say that just to say it?”

“I truly believe it.” Gunjar said. “You did have a point though. Kings and councilors have their own agenda but I never once charged at a dragon screaming ‘For the true High King!’ or any of that nonsense. I charged in thinking about my wife, about how one day I want to have a kid with her. Maybe a little girl with my eyes and her mother’s spirit or a little boy running around with a wooden sword scaring the feathers off the chickens. I was thinking that I got to make this world safe for them. I mean, I pretty much accomplished what I set out to do as the Dragonborn. Alduin is dead, the first Dragonborn is dead, most of the dragons have gone off with Parthurnax and the rest are being mopped up one by one. But if years down the line, after I got my little army of kids and a barn full of chickens, something happens that requires me to grab my axe and run off to fight…I’d do it. For that little army of kids.”

Nevano crushed the hardened chunk of ash in his hand, the particles slipping through his fingers. He suddenly remembered what had fully changed his mind about being the Nerevarine. “I…I remember. It was the first time I had visited the Urshilaku clan. I didn’t want to be there anymore than they wanted me there but it was the only way I could go home so I dragged myself through the dirt doing what they wanted and eventually I got to speak with the ashkhan. He sent me to go retrieve Bonebiter here. On my way back to them, an ash storm came ripping through. I remember hearing how concerned they were…the guar herders were throwing blankets over their animals and mothers were running to retrieve their children…they even started screaming at me to hurry up and run into one of the yurts to wait out the storm. It hit so fast. You could barely see your hand in front of your face. The ash was swirling in all directions so you couldn’t tell if you were sitting, standing or walking upside down. One little girl inhaled too much of the ash and…caught corprus. There’s no cure for that. She died several long agonizing hours later, with her mother screaming and crying and her father trying his damnedest not to break down either. There was nothing they could do other than watch her die. That was the moment I decided that I had to do it. I didn’t want another little kid to die, not like that and not because some mortals wanted to play god.”

“You got jaded when you lost…Modryn, right?”

“Yeah. I just…didn’t see the point after that. Why fight when all that was going to happen was something else was going to come along, take the previous monster’s place and destroy everything you just tried to save?” Nevano gripped at the stone under him. “I just…didn’t see the point.”

“Something changed though.”

“Remember me telling you about Jorun?”

“The Dunmer with the Nord name, yeah.”

“I admit I’m one of the worst friends around. It would be years in-between visits. I guess when you don’t age time becomes a little hard to keep track of…but on one of my visits I was suddenly assaulted by a small little cub who attached himself to my back with his arms around my neck absolutely begging me for stories. Didn’t matter if it was one his dad had already told him, he wanted to hear it from ME. I had so much fun with that kid.” Nevano smiled. “I…didn’t realize how much time had passed until I ran into him here. That little calf grew into a bull and a fighting one at that. The good captain still gets pissed off when I call him Bull but I refuse to change the nickname.”

“Captain Veleth? The one who looked like he wanted to cut me in half for bringing the dragon here? HE’S Jorun’s son?”

“Surprised?. I sure was.” Nevano grinned. “Tough kid. Looks like his mother…and inherited her temper I noticed. Inherited his father’s gut too. He’s a very interesting combination of them both.”

“You think he’s going to end up involved in what’s going on in Morrowind?”

“I don’t think, I know he will be.” Nevano frowned, crushing another lump of ash in his fingers. “He told me how he ended up here…Gunjar, something about that story set off warning bells in my head.”

“You think so?”

“I…I can’t let him do this alone.” Nevano sighed. “I let my rage overtake me when I went after that undead apprentice of Neloth’s. Gunjar, I lost my mind. I did exactly what every warrior is told NOT to do. I’m broken, I got nothing left, but I’ll be damned if I let the same thing happen to this kid. I’ll sacrifice my own sanity first.”

“I think you got more than you realize but you are determined to see yourself alone.” Gunjar shrugged. “Every fighter goes through that moment where they realize the beast that lives in us all is trying to get out.” 

“I guess so.”

They lapsed into a companionable silence for a while, Gunjar watching Masser and Secunda make their slow journey across the sky and Nevano crushing ash clumps and sprinkling the dust down into the dark water below. They both knew what was going to happen; they just didn’t feel the need to say it. 

“I’m curious about something though.” Gunjar said. “All this talk about kids…you obviously like them. Ever thought about having your own one day? Maybe retiring and living a normal life?”

Nevano’s hands involuntarily curled into fists and his jaw clenched. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “I can’t”

“Why not?” Gunjar asked. “I know you don’t age but even that time with a woman would be nice. Most women I would think would like a good-looking man who won’t age.”

Nevano sighed. “That’s not it at all. Being a slave as I was in my early years…they don’t like their slaves breeding. There are places that allow that. Can you imagine? An entire facility that breeds PEOPLE for the sole purpose of being a slave? It’s like owning cattle…anyway, all the places I’ve been to didn’t want breeding slaves. It cuts down the work time and effectiveness, not to mention it brings about a certain defiance because parents want to protect their kids. You know, natural instincts? The thing we are all born with? So I was force fed a potion that would…sterilize me. See, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. It only worked as long as it was taken on a regular basis but as young as I was it…permanently damaged me. No kids for me.”

“I….I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Nevano gave him a small smile. “Modryn never had kids of his own but he ended up with me. I might not ever have my own little brats running around, and I’m sure there are a lot of people breathing a sigh of relief at THAT thought, but I can help look after my friends’ brats. Veleth being a good case in point. Maybe one day I’ll even entertain your horde of brats. Or even finding some kid who needs someone like I needed Modryn.” Nevano stood up abruptly, brushing the ash off his hands. “I guess it’s time to go tell Morvayn my decision.”

“Do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Cause mayhem. As much as you possibly can.” Gunjar grinned as he stood up, brushing ash off his armor. “When this is written in history books later, I want it to be so crazy that I’m laughing at it. I want to be old and telling my grandkids about the story of the crazy yellow-eyed Dunmer who turned an entire empire upside down with his unorthodox methods. Even better, I want you to remember to come visit me when I’m old and keep my army of kids and grandkids entertained with the story of how you saved Morrowind again.”

Nevano found himself grinning back. “For once, a promise I know I can keep. I’ll give you a story worthy of telling in Sovngarde for eternity my friend.” He tossed Gunjar a full pouch of coins. “Go get yourself a few drinks on me. I’ll come find your drunk arse later and make sure you aren’t actually passed out under a table.”

“Thanks! I think…”

Nevano jumped down from the Bulwark and made his way back through Raven Rock to Morvayn’s manor. It was very late but he knew better; the councilor rarely slept. So he didn’t feel bad in the slightest when he walked in and dropped into a chair in front of the councilor.

“When is the next boat out to Blacklight?”

Morvayn looked up from the letter he was writing. Nevano could read a few of the words upside down, Veleth’s name popping up a few times. “What makes you think there is one in the foreseeable future?”

“Because now that things have settled here on the whole island, in as much as Solstheim CAN be settled, you now have the time and the ability to focus elsewhere…to the Thalmor problem.” Nevano tipped his chair back. “And to your unwitting key player. That WAS your plan, yes? Sending Veleth back to Blacklight?”

“Whoever said you weren’t sharp was badly mistaken…”

“That would have been all of Morrowind circa 3E 427.” Nevano picked at his nails. “But let me get this all laid out and you tell me if I’m right or wrong. The Thalmor, after fighting open warfare with both Cyrodiil and Hammerfell, are trying a more quiet approach in Morrowind, seeking to choke us out instead of outright cutting off our heads. After all, it’s working in Skyrim. I foiled one plot by stealing back my own damned swords but that was merely one knot in a massive tangle. Veleth trips over that tangle when he got skewered in the swamp and is now tied up in it himself. However, because he’s as blunt as a boulder and has no head for politics, he’s sent here until someone can figure out how to play him in a role he cannot escape. How am I doing so far?”

“Nearly spot on.” Morvayn sighed. “However, it’s not quiet as harsh as you are making it out to be. Years ago, when he requested to stay, General Relas readily agreed to it. He hadn’t figured out what happened out there, still hasn’t actually, and he did not want to throw Veleth out as bait. He’s rather fond of the boy. So he felt it was the wisest course of action to allow him to stay. I wasn’t going to argue it; the man is damn useful around here. Then the mines closed down, things got tight and then the whole thing with the ash spawn and Miraak? He was the first one to throw himself against the yoke and pull harder, so to speak. He kept this town going where I could not. However, things back on the mainland were getting worse. The Thalmor were starting to make their move, starting to choke us, as you said. I knew that the time was drawing closer that I would have to send Veleth back, despite everything going on here. Then you showed up, you and the Dragonborn. You two cleared everything up and made making these decisions much easier.”

“What can I say? I bring a cleansing rain with me wherever I go.” Nevano said sarcastically, waving his hand around.

“With a burst of caustic fog.”

“It gets the job done.”

“Of course.” Morvayn snorted. “Anyway, you came along and all of the sudden things…are flipped around. You are a wild card, Nevano. I haven’t told anyone you are here because I’m not sure which way you are going to go or how you are going to play.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, councilor.” Nevano smiled. “Because I’m going to let you in on a little secret; even I don’t know how I’m going to play. I’m going to go to Morrowind with Veleth. Beyond that…well, I guess I’ll see when I get there. Finish your letter but I’m going to request that you leave me entirely.”

“I was, and I’m glad to hear you are going with him. Veleth can walk freely in Blacklight without drawing suspicion, but you can’t. However, on the flip side, Veleth can’t navigate the political arena that will undoubtedly come about but your quick mind can. You two might be the perfect team that the Thalmor will never expect.”

“Easier said than done.” Nevano let his chair fall flat with a thump. “But it’s plan enough for now. Now, one last thing to settle.”

“What’s that?”

“Which one of us is going to risk the wrath of the Bull and tell him he’s relieved of duty here and going to Blacklight?” 

XxXxXx

“You win.”

“Excuse me?”

There was just something about catching Veleth off guard that amused Nevano. Maybe it was payback for years of Jorun doing the same to him for all those years or maybe it was because it was fun throwing a normally hyper aware person off their game. With Gunjar it was easy enough, even though the kid had wised up to his ways. Veleth actually expected him to try…and still Nevano could shock him. Or maybe it was the look Veleth was giving him now, the mixture of exasperation, annoyance and curiosity. 

“You win. I’m going to Morrowind.” The look morphed into annoyed shock. It was an interesting combination. Nevano was fascinated at how he could combine two emotions that normally did not run together hand in hand, though he was fairly certain that the annoyance was more directed at the tiny bloom of suspicion in his gut that was telling him to beware the plot twist. 

“What made you change your mind?”

“I couldn’t let you go alone.”

“Couldn’t let me…I think you got something wrong there.” Veleth looked highly confused now and little concerned. Nevano didn’t blame him. By now that little inkling in his gut should, hopefully, be telling him to stop fighting and go along with it. Unfortunately, stubbornness was Veleth’s finest trait. 

“Nope. I’m going to Morrowind to figure all this out…and you are coming with me.”

“In case you haven’t noticed but I have a post HERE.” Ah anger. A good defense but unfortunately for Veleth, Nevano could see the spark of doubt in his eyes. His gut was heavily disagreeing with him. It would win over eventually but Nevano knew it needed a little help to push through that stubbornness. 

“And now you have a post elsewhere.” Nevano said. “Look, Bull, you said so yourself. It’s bad. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You said that remember? You also said that I’m a legend, a living legend, and that if I re-appear the whole nation will rally behind me to throw the Thalmor out on their arses. Well, one elf can’t do that alone, no matter how highly you or a nation thinks of me. I didn’t kill Dagoth Ur without help. No hero in history has ever gone it alone. There is always a small army of support that never makes it to the history books behind them, from a kindly old lady who gave them a hot meal and a few encouraging words to a spy master who orchestrates everything. I can’t do this alone…and Morvayn agreed with me. Interestingly enough, he already had plans for you to go, with or without me. However, I can’t do this alone…but nor am I willing to let you go alone without me. What do you say?”

“I was not expecting to go myself to be honest…”

“Hoping I’d do all the hard work?”

“Yes.”

Nevano laughed at that. “Nice try. I have to admit that, as much as I wanted to think otherwise, I’ve been mentally assembling my army ever since you told me about rebelling against the Thalmor. You were the first player I had on my mental chess board.”

“Pawn or knight?”

“Rook, actually. Very blunt piece that moves forward, no strange shifty moves.”

Veleth remained quiet but Nevano could see a quiet resignation in his eyes. He knew, like Nevano knew, what they had to do. The hardest part was admitting it out loud. 

“Look…go talk to Morvayn and go talk to Dreyla. The boat isn’t due to leave for another few days but I can delay it if I have to. I haven’t replaced enough of my blood with alcohol to go on a boat ride just yet.” Nevano turned to go. “Please consider it, Bull.” 

XxXxXx

Veleth paced around, waiting for Dreyla to show up at their meeting spot. His mind was in a upheaval, churning over this latest turn of events in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all but it kept coming back up empty. He was being shipped off. Not reassigned but sent off. When he had stormed into Morvayn manor and all but demanded an explanation he had left feeling more conflicted than when he had entered. He was to go to Blacklight under the pretense of being re-assigned after…how long had he been here? He stopped pacing as he did the math. Boethiah strike him down, it had been almost 70 years. 

He stood there in utter shock. He had been here for over half a century and he had barely even noticed. Of course, such a chunk of time was not much by elven standards but it was certainly a lot longer than he had originally intended on being here. And now he was being reassigned. Just like that. 

“Modyn? What’s wrong?” Dreyla hurried up to him, her eyes bright with worry at seeing his normally composed appearance in shreds at his feet.

“I’m leaving, Dreyla.” He said bluntly.

“Wait, what?!”

“I’ve been reassigned. My time here is…over.”

“No, no, THIS is your home! They can’t just send you away!”

That made Veleth pause. Home. When he heard that word his first thoughts immediately brought up images of Blacklight, of winters with the cold wind from Skyrim bringing the sharp clean smell of ice and snow. He thought of summers on the rocky shores, playing in the surf, Vvardenfell dark and foreboding on the horizon. He thought of running along the curving streets and how thinking of cities where everything lay straight just seemed so strange. He thought of Rootspire standing tall, casting shadows that reached across the whole city at certain times of the day. No matter how fond he might have gotten of this little spit of a town, Raven Rock was not home. Suddenly the whole reason for leaving was clear.

“Dreyla…” He began slowly, knowing it would break her heart. “Raven Rock is not my home. Blacklight is my home. It always will be. I was born there and my heart will always be there. I was on loan here. We both knew that one day the time would come that I would be recalled back to the mainland. It just came sooner than we expected.”

“Modyn…”

“Hear me out Dreyla because I just figured it out.” Veleth led her over to a rock and pulled her to sit next to him. “I’m going to be honest with you…but you need to keep this quiet for right now. Morvayn is telling everyone that I’m being recalled to the Redoran army. In truth…I’m being turned loose. With Nevano. I’m not completely certain just WHAT we’re going to do but…we’re fighting a fight no one else can do. It’s dangerous and I’m not certain how successful we’re going to be but we got to try.”

“This started when you went to Blacklight with the councilor, didn’t it?”

“It started long before that, my love.” He said gently. He rarely called her by a nickname but he wanted so bad to ease the pain from her face. “It’s just that now I’m free to deal with it. Raven Rock is safe and now I need to go make sure Morrowind herself is safe.” 

“And you are going with that kid?” Dreyla looked up at him and the sad resignation in her eyes nearly broke his heart. “Is he really the Nerevarine?”

“He’s twice my age and yes he is.” The memories had been slowly trickling back over the past month, the man who he had viewed as a fun uncle as a child. He even remembered the incident where Nevano had taught him a few curses in the Ashlander tongue and his mother had thrown a vase at Nevano’s head while his father had laughed uproariously. Nevano’s sense of humor hadn’t changed over the decades but he could see how world-weary the man had gotten. Still, if there was one person who could help them it was that crazy, yellow-eyed Dunmer bastard who looked far younger than he actually was. 

“Then it’s bad.”

“It is.” A crazy thought entered his head. Rash and born of a fevered desire to ease both of their pain, one he knew would never work but he had to try. “Dreyla…why don’t you come with me?”

“Modyn…I can’t.” Dreyla gasped. “I want to but…I can’t leave my father. It’ll kill him I…”

“No…I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything.” Veleth sighed, disappointment crushing his soul. “I just…I can’t say when I’m coming back…if I’m coming back at all.”

“Don’t say that!” Dreyla gripped his armor so hard he was almost afraid that it would crack under the force of her grip. “We will see each other again. I just know it! Reclamations will it we will see each other and be together again. Then nothing, not even my father, can keep us apart.”

Veleth said nothing as he hugged her tight. Silently he made a promise to himself that he would make it so. He just hoped he survived long enough to hold to that promise. 

XxXxXx

There were many things Nevano couldn’t stand to see in life. Kicked puppies, sad children, lonely women and undrunk alcohol topped the list. So, as the day of their departure drew near, when he saw Veleth looking like a combination of all four of those things, he knew he had to do something. Besides, if he remembered correctly, Veleth’s birthday was coming up. He needed to do something…special. He looked over to where Gunjar was trying to get a bad knick out of his axe. 

“Hey, Gunjar?”

“What?”

“If you were about to head off on a rather lengthy adventure, and I’m talking long-term here, what would you like the most before you left?”

“An uninterrupted night with my wife.” Came Gunjar’s almost instant reply, not even looking up from his weapon. 

A slow grin started to stretch across Nevano’s face. “Hey, Gunjar?”

“What?”

“I’m going to need your help with something.” Gunjar looked up in alarm. He knew that tone. 

The grin never left Nevano’s face as he walked through town, snagging the twins and dragging them to a quiet corner behind one of the abandoned houses. “I need to cause a…commotion. One that is a long time coming.” Nevano pulled the twins close. “We need to give the dear captain some…time off.”

The twins followed Nevano’s gaze to where Mogrul was harassing people as usual. Nevano gave them a moment, watching as it slowly dawned on them what he was hinting at. “As Redoran Guard we cannot condone this. We have to follow the guidelines and rules set by House Redoran and by Councilor Morvayn, upkept by Captain Veleth and-oh forget it. We hate repeating that damn phrase.” Nevano blinked. They always spoke in perfect tandem that it left his brain buzzing. “So we get to harass Mogrul and get Veleth to go on a date?”

“And annoy Fethis Alore.”

“Don’t think you can sweeten this deal more…”

“You won’t get in trouble.”

“We’re in!

Nevano grinned widely, yellow eyes flashing. The twins grinned back, their faces a perfect mirror of devious delight. He quickly outlined the plan to them and dashed off to go find the captain, leaving the twins snickering behind him. 

“Hey Bull!” It really wasn’t all that hard to find the captain. All Nevano had to do was follow the black cloud of misery. Well…misery struck through by anger. That black cloud had lightning bolts in it.

“For the last gods’ damned time, don’t call me that.” Veleth snapped. Nevano kept a calculated distance between them, warded off by the tension that was all but snapping him in the face. 

“You know that I won’t.” He replied easily. “It’s our last day here. Tomorrow we go.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Veleth said dryly.

“Oh stop it. You should really spend it with Dreyla.”

“Look, I would LOVE to but…”

“But what? You really weren’t planning on leaving a girl without a goodbye were you?” Nevano interrupted him before he could launch into a tirade that would last the rest of the day. “Patrols are covered since you reorganized everything and set someone to act in your place, it’s so calm it’s boring right now, and I’ll keep her father suitably distracted.”

“That’s besides the point! I got…” Veleth trailed off as Nevano’s words sunk in. “Wait, did you just say you’ll distract Fethis?”

“Yes I did.” It took all of Nevano’s willpower to keep from bouncing on his toes like an excited child. 

“…How long?”

“I can get you a few hours.” Nevano said. “I can definitely try for more. I’m also calculating in another hour or so after I’m done for him to even think to look for her. When he starts bellowing I’ll find a way to warn you.”

“I…”

“No man should leave without saying goodbye to his favorite girl.” Nevano said, spinning the captain around to where Dreyla was moping by her father’s market stand. “You are just one of the lucky ones whose favorite girl won’t slap you across the face for it. No unrequited love for a favorite bar girl for you! Now go signal her or steal her away or whatever it is you do to get her away from her father.”

“Wait…”

“You can thank me later.”

“Nevano…”

“Go! Before I tell the twins to keep her happy while you’re gone.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I killed three gods, Veleth. There’s not much I wouldn’t dare do anymore.” Nevano shoved him hard in the back, which didn’t accomplish much given that Veleth was much bigger than he was but it had the desired effect. Nevano smirked as he watched the captain walk by, giving Dreyla a small hand signal before strolling off back across town, towards the Bulwark. Dreyla waited a minute or so before she followed after him. He waved at Gunjar and the twins. It was show time.

The twins promptly chased all the other guards off, shoving them off to different posts, effectively clearing the market square. They would make sure no one interfered while at the same time making sure things wouldn’t get too out of hand. Gunjar strode up, clearing his throat to get Mogrul’s attention. 

“Hey, Mogrul.” Gunjar said. “Next time, send some thugs who actually know how to fight. Or are you planning on going broke sending fools after me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The orc growled. A hush went over the market square as Raven Rock’s residents stared wide-eyed as someone dared stand up to the town bully. When Mogrul’s bodyguard, Slitter, glared they did their best to appear busy while never once taking their eyes off the scene unfolding in front of them. 

“Of course not.” Gunjar took a folded letter from a pouch and began to read aloud. “ ‘Find Gunjar and get my money. I don’t care how you do it, or what you do with Gunjar. Just get my gold!’ it’s signed M but since I apparently inherited Drovas’ debt, I can only assume that means you. Oh, and I killed those thugs outside Tel Mithryn. Master Neloth sends his thanks for the gift of three bodies to perform experiments on.” Gunjar crumpled the note up and threw the ball at Mogrul. Slitter tightened his grip on his weapon. Gunjar pulled out another note. “This one from a group I killed outside the Skaal village. We fed the bodies to a hungry bear. The bear sends her thanks for the meal.” Another balled up letter bounced off the orc’s face. Nevano swore he could see smoke pouring from Morgul’s ears. He also noted that everyone was watching with barely hidden glee. He was pretty sure he had matching expression on his own face. “And this last one. This was the best one. This group got brainwashed into working on the Water Stone. When I freed them, they attacked me. The sailors that were freed along with them helped me kill them, though I didn’t really need the help. I thanked the sailors for helping me dump the bodies into the ocean for the slaughterfish.” 

The next paper ball to the face was the straw that broke the guar’s back. Mogrul roared in fury and charged at Gunjar. However, Mogrul was not much of a fighter, hence the bodyguard. He certainly was no match for the much younger and far more skilled Gunjar. The Nord grabbed the charging orc and threw him headfirst into Fethis’ stand, knocking everything over and breaking half the objects there. 

Slitter drew his sword, fully intending on running Gunjar through but Nevano was not having it. “Oh no you don’t!” He barked and jumped up between them, throwing his weight into his fist as he drove it into Slitter’s nose, feeling a satisfying crack as his nose shattered under the blow. Meanwhile, Mogrul was getting to his feet, growling. Nevano pulled out a small round pellet from his belt, something he had requested Milore to make a few days ago. He had intended to use it against Mogrul anyway before he left but this…was just too good an opportunity to pass up. He threw it at the angry orc. 

“Oh…oh Shor’s breath!” Gunjar backed up, hand clapped to his nose and mouth. “Was that a stink bomb?”

“You just threw a stink bomb ON ME!” Mogrul screamed, frantically brushing at his clothes. 

“Did you just throw a stink bomb ON MY MERCHANDISE?!” Fethis screeched. 

“Think of it as orc repellant?” Nevano put on his best innocent grin, trying not to cough as the horrible stench made his eyes water and his throat feel like sandpaper.

“You…you…GET BACK HERE YOU!!”

Nevano laughed wildly as he raced around the market square, an angry Fethis hot on his heels. He hadn’t had this much fun since he colored the sheep at Weynon Priory pink with a potion he got from the Mages Guild and set them loose in the castle. He had run from the guards, laughing the whole time, leading them on a merry chase that wound through the entire city. Nevano had had more color potions and he had infuriated the pursuing guards by lobbing them over his shoulder at them, turning them some interesting colors. Of course it had all come to an absolute crashing halt when Modryn got involved. He knew that Veleth was going to crash his fun eventually but for now, while said captain was “busy”, he was going to enjoy the moment. Gunjar told him to create mayhem. This was a grand start. Speaking of Gunjar, the Nord was currently laughing so hard his face was turning red. Or was that from the stench? 

As he passed Morvayn Manor he could see Councilor Morvayn leaning against the doorway, watching the madness unfold, Adril Arano and his wife watching with wide eyes as every citizen was doubled over with bouts of laughter mixed with coughing in a fog of stink, Slitter groaning on the ground with blood dripping everywhere and Mogrul bellowing.

“Lleril…what is…are we going to stop this?”

“You know what? I didn’t see anything.” 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 26th Last Seed

“Are you still mad?”

Cold silence.

“Oh come on. You got your good-bye with your girl without getting caught. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Still silence, this time punctuated by a nasty glare. 

“Fine, fine, be a stick in the mud. I regret nothing.”

How Veleth made that glare blazing hot and the silence icy cold at the same time was a mystery.

“The twins voluntarily helped when I asked. It’s not like I corrupted them or anything. You are acting like I corrupted the whole guard…”

“I wasn’t worried about corruption. Distraction was one thing but you threw the WHOLE TOWN into turmoil!”

“He speaks!”

“Get on the gods damned boat.”

Far from being put off by Veleth’s obvious bad mood, Nevano laughed. He was still riding the high he had gotten plunging the entirety of Raven Rock into mayhem. He planned on riding it as long as he possibly could, especially since he was about to get on a boat for yet another long boat ride. After this, he was never getting on another boat again if he could help it. If he couldn’t walk overland to his destination or be magically transported, he wasn’t going to go. That meant never visiting the Summerset Isles or whatever the Thalmor called it now. Somehow that thought didn’t bother him all that much. 

The boat shoved off, making him wobble for a moment, his balance as coordinated on water as a cat wearing slippers. He gripped the railing to keep from falling over. So this was it. He was actually headed back to Morrowind. It definitely wasn’t something he expected but…for once, he felt at peace with his decision. Like he was doing the right thing finally. 

He saluted to Gunjar as the boat reached the edge of the cove, receiving a wave in return. Gunjar would head back off to Skyrim to tear it apart then put it back right again. If there was one Nord who could accomplish that, it was Gunjar. Nevano would keep his word and cause mayhem and hopefully they would see each other again and share their adventures over sujamma. Nevano took in a lungful of salty air and turned his attention south, towards Morrowind.

It was time to go.

“Oh, by the way…happy birthday Bull.” Nevano laughed when a muttered curse answered him. 

END PART 3 

XxXxXx

A/N: And thus ends most things canon! From here on out, it’s MY inventions y’all! I can’t tell you how excited I am about this. Buckle your seatbelts kids, its about to get wild! 

Confession time; I’m not going to follow Gunjar. There are several reasons for this, the foremost being that I have not actually completed the civil war quest lines (don’t ask. I get busy leveling crap. I refuse to write about something I have not actually played through if it’s canon.). However, I most likely will end up writing Gunjar his own story about what happened in that whole thing because I have ideas. However THAT particular fic won’t come about until AFTER I complete this fic. With school being a beast I can’t handle more than one project a time. I’m not giving away my plot but Gunjar is not gone from this story forever. He still has a part to play. 

Has anyone ever notice how the serpentine dragons in Dragonborn DLC look a lot like the flying mounts the Nazgul use in Lord of the Rings?


	26. Part 4 - Kings (Coming Home)

Part 4 - Kings

Chapter 25

Coming Home

XxXxXx

3E 431 – Chorrol, Cyrodiil

Nevano walked along the Black Road, every footstep getting heavier and more apprehensive. He hadn’t been home since he had been shipped off to Morrowind over three years ago. He hadn’t even been able to write. At first he had been watched closely because he was a released prisoner. Despite being told he was released and pardoned, there was no such thing. He had been watched by more than one party, was still being watched, his every move and current whereabouts whispered in secretive circles that he took to learning illusion spells and the finer points of sneaking. After he had saved the entire damn province, he had been watched closely because he was now a hero…no one wanted to let him slip away. He didn’t want any of that to travel home. In his heart he was still a skittish orphan, adopted by the champion of the Fighters Guild, a simple mer who wanted nothing more than to be free. Now he was more captive than he ever had been. 

A few well placed bribes and favors called in from a few that he would almost call friends had transported him to the Mages Guild in Cheydinhal. Hopefully he could make it out and be halfway to Chorrol before anyone could figure out where he went. 

His feet knew the way. Even after several years of being away, his feet placed precisely along the road as if they had walked this way yesterday. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the forest. He had missed the Great Forest. He wasn’t normally big on forests, he often felt claustrophobic with trees pressing in all around him, but he had grown up in the Great Forest. He had spent countless days scrambling up the trunks of the massive hardwood trees and pretending he was a big cat leaping from limb to limb. When he grew older the games took on a more serious edge. He wasn’t a big mer with the ability to withstand taking hit after hit and keep fighting. He had to learn stealth and agility to keep from getting hurt and what better way to learn than running through the trees, stalking his prey silently and efficiently. The Chorrol guildhall often ate pretty well with all the deer he brought back, the animal never once seeing him. This forest was his ally, it protected him and provided him everything he had ever needed later in life. Now it welcomed him home. 

Before he could push open the city gate, a girl came bursting through, crashing into him and nearly taking them both to the ground were it not for his quick reflexes spinning them around, allowing him to keep his feet and set her down. Thank Azura she was a petite little thing or else they both would have eaten dust. 

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” He coughed out, trying to regain his breath from when she crashed into his chest. 

“Sorry, sir!” The girl snapped up crisply in a salute. “Important business for the Fighters Guild!”

“Fighters Guild hm?”

“Yessir!”

“Oreyn snapping his fingers then?”

“He’s a stern man.”

“That’s…an understatement.” Nevano snorted. “Good luck, kid. Get going though. He’s not a patient mer.”

Nevano watched her scamper off down the road south. She was certainly an eager recruit, obviously brand new with that sort of professional eagerness. Older members were far more laid back and only saluted if Modryn started growling. Or if the guild master made an appearance. Burz gro-Khash would roll his eyes and Azzan would laugh if someone tried that with them. 

Slowly he made his way through the gate. It felt strange walking through Chorrol, like it was his first time in a new city and not returning to the place he considered home. It used to be that when he came this way people would greet him by name, some more enthusiastically than others, and a dedicated group of children would follow him, begging for stories or for him to play with them or for the occasional treat he may or may not have gotten for them. It was like feeding ducks. Toss them bread once and they always came back. Now he was invisible, save for the one or two curious looks shot his way from the more nosy citizens. He kept his hood pulled low over his face, ignoring the city guards hailing him as a stranger. He just hurried along, suddenly desperate to be home. 

Home.

He had dreamed of this moment for three long years. The long nights listening to the ash storms howling outside, his weapon in hand, was when the loneliness and homesickness hit the hardest and he had squeezed his eyes shut and desperately wished he knew a spell to transport him back home, to his family. 

Family.

He smiled. He did have a family here, didn’t he? He hadn’t really thought about it before now. He had always been alone, or so he had thought. He had been such an angry child when Modryn first took him home and it had taken several years before he had calmed down enough to be even remotely considered civilized company. Modryn had never once made a huge deal out of it, which had helped, but then none of the other members had either. They were a group of rough and tumble fighters. An out-of-control elf child who simply didn’t know how to socialize didn’t rattle any of them. If anything they had been there to help bring him back down to a calmer state. They had accepted him. For the first time in his life…he had had a family. He couldn’t wait to get back to them. 

He entered the guildhall and was greeted by a big orc. He recognized the bright green giant right away as Lum gro-Baroth. He wasn’t actually part of the guild, his older brother Kurz was, but he hung around so often that no one really made the distinction anymore. He was Lum, the friendlier half of the orc brothers. 

“Welcome to the Fighters Guild! Can we help you? Start a contract? Join the guild?” He said brightly. Nevano’s heart sank when Lum didn’t recognize him right away but quickly chased it away. He had his hood pulled low over his face, what did he expect? He could use this to his advantage; make his entrance a bit more…interesting. 

“I’m looking for Modryn.” Nevano realized with a start how rough his voice was. How hadn’t he noticed this earlier? In Morrowind, his ash scratched throat had just blended in with all the other rough voices but hearing it compared to voices that slid out on clean air it sounded…not his own. He barely recognized himself. Well…that would help with his plan at least. 

“Oreyn? He should be in soon.” The orc tapped on a protruding tusk. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait.”

It was easily the longest wait of his life. It was a little unusual for Modryn to not be in the guildhall at this time of day but he could be working on a big contract or working with a guild member on something. It didn’t make the wait any easier for Nevano, who desperately wanted, no, NEEDED, to see Modryn again, the only father figure in his life, the only one who had the slightest inkling what he was feeling or could understand what he was going through. 

The door opened and Nevano jumped. Modryn walked in, followed closely by Sabine and the Donton brothers. His heart leaped into his throat and he clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure. Did they even want him back? He had been gone for a long time, things had moved on without him. Suddenly he wanted to run away. Just…run back to Morrowind and go back to being dead to them. Then Modryn pinned him down with a red-eyed gaze that demanded to know who he was and why he was here. He knew he couldn’t run now. He had to plow on. 

Instead of greeting him in common, Nevano stood up straight and greeted him in the formal way in the Ashlander tongue. It was not commonly spoken, even among the Dunmer. The formal tongue was often reserved only for rituals among the Ashlander clans. It consisted of ancient Chimeri words that required twists of the tongue that most people couldn’t hope to accomplish. He knew Modryn would recognize the significance of it, even if he couldn’t understand all the words. He was also fairly confident that even Modryn wouldn’t recognize his voice. 

Everyone in the guildhall was trying, and failing, to appear like they were busy and not listening in but he could have heard a dagger slice a hair in the hall. 

Then Modryn answered in the same tongue, a slightly less formal greeting, all in Velothi, no Chimeri, and it was a bit rusty from disuse. Nevano rather doubted there were many Ashlanders in Cyrodiil to practice on, especially since he hadn’t been there for them to lapse back into their native tongue. Feeling a little heartened that he wasn’t ejected out of the hall outright, Nevano switched to common.

“I bring news from the east.”

“News? What kind of news?” Sabine broke in, earning a red-eyed glare from the champion, “You mean from Morrowind?”

“The Nerevarine!” Viranus said before his brother could stop him. “You mean about the Nerevarine!”

“I believe you know someone who was sent to Morrowind?”

“Nevano! What do you know of him?” Lum jumped in, “Tell us! You better not have done anything to him!”

“Tell us!” His brother Kurz growled. 

“ENOUGH!!” Modryn’s impressive bellow made them all flinch back. “By Azura, what is wrong with all of you? Sit down and shut up!”

“He’s alive. A long, hard journey, through Vvardenfell and even Mournhold. He’s faced kings, gods, assassins and some of the most gods’ damned ugly monsters the world has ever seen. You thought the goblins here were ugly…” Nevano smiled, his plan was working. Nervousness and eagerness made his stomach flip around. “But…”

“But…?” Modryn growled, glaring at the others to shut up. 

Nevano pulled back his hood, “He managed to finally get home. That…was more than enough for me.”

They all stared at him in complete shock for a few tense seconds…then it was like the hall exploded. The noise made both mer in the room wince as noise assaulted sensitive ears. Nevano’s ears were ringing as white light exploded in his head. Then he felt the air leave his lungs in a rush as he was lifted up off his feet by Lum picking him up in a monstrous hug. Sabine and the overly excited Donton brothers also leaped on him, the massive orc holding them all up and swinging them in a circle, laughing. Even Kurz was smiling. 

Nevano was reeling. He had not expected this homecoming. Actually he didn’t know what he was expecting. But this…they were genuinely HAPPY to see their long lost guild mate. They had MISSED him. They had truly missed him! They were family after all!

“Alright, that’s enough!” 

Unceremoniously Nevano was dumped on the ground, the humans all landing on top of him. “Ow…”

“You all have jobs to do. Get to it!”

Such was the seriousness in Modryn’s voice that everyone scrabbled out without a single protest, leaving Nevano to face Modryn alone. Suddenly he felt nervous all over again. He felt like he was a small child again and was about to get in trouble for one infraction or another. He slowly got to his feet, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. Then a hand under his chin forced him to look up. 

Modryn was never big on any sort of physical contact, unless it included smacking around an impudent recruit who hadn’t been properly introduced to the champion’s temper. Any sort of unwelcome touch was often met by a glare, which was mild, or a trip out the door to violently meet the great oak tree face first. So when Modryn drew him into a hug his brain went blank. Modryn’s affection was the gruff sort, a slap on the back or shoulder, a rough smile here or there but this…Nevano started to shake, warmth blooming in his heart. 

“I’m glad you’re home, boy.”

He was Nerevarine, the reincarnation of the Chimer general Nerevar, hero of Morrowind, killer of gods and a hardened fighter known in two provinces for his prowess in both swords and the bow. In that moment, all of that dissolved. Titles be damned. He was now simply Nevano, a child adopted by Modryn Oreyn. He choked on a sob and tears prickled his eyes as he clung to Modryn. 

He was finally home.

XxXxXx

4E 201, 30th Last Seed – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano had requested that they arrive at night, something that the Dunmer crew had been rather happy to comply with. He planned on slipping from the ship under the cover of darkness before the Thalmor came to inspect the ship and be long gone before they had any idea there had been any extra passengers onboard. He glanced over to where Veleth stood, a solid, silent and rather frightening statue that had been silent the entire boat ride. Nevano had left him alone. Unlike Gunjar, who had been like an open book, he couldn’t always tell what Veleth was thinking. So he stuck to staying curled up in his corner and wishing this damned boat ride would end soon.

“Don’t like sailing?” 

Nevano looked up at Veleth’s voice. He hadn’t moved at all, he was still a rock statue, but at least he was talking. “I despise sailing. There is nothing remotely enjoyable about it. I don’t know how these men stand making a LIVING out of it.”

Finally Veleth looked over his shoulder at him. “I’m not going to claim any fondness for it either.”

Nevano smiled a little and slowly stood up on shaky legs and went over to stand next to Veleth, looking towards land in the distance, gripping the railing in a death grip. Of course, the horizon was dominated by Red Mountain. It had been perfectly visible on Solstheim but now it seemed impossibly large. He fancied he could even smell it. 

“Moody bitch…” Nevano muttered as he stared at it. 

“That’s one way of describing Red Mountain.”

“I got plenty more.” Nevano shrugged. “Some good, some not. Lot of mixed emotions every time I look at it.”

“I can believe that.” Veleth sighed. “It’s been interesting…realizing that everything my father said was true. Or re-realizing it. All the memories have been coming back slowly and I’ve seen what a fool I’ve been.”

“Not a fool.” Nevano said. “It’s hard to be the only believer when you’re surrounded by thousands who think otherwise. Hell, even I didn’t believe in me. Jorun was the only one who never doubted me. It seems that, even now, he hasn’t stopped believing…even after I lost it, again. When I heard Adril say that, that he’s now thought of as crazy, for simply believing in his friend, I wanted to comply with what you were thinking and punch him in the face.”

“It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had he not spread that lie around.”

“Lie?” Nevano looked up sharply. “What lie?”

“He was the one who said you went to Akavir. He told me that little secret the last time I saw him some months ago.” Veleth resolutely didn’t look at him. “Said that you were so burnt out that he knew he had to do something, so he started the rumor that you had left for Akavir so you could get a break. Everyone bought it and quit trying to look for you.”

“Jorun…I don’t believe it. I’m not surprised in the slightest but…oh Jorun.” Nevano closed his eyes, stunned. 

“At first I didn’t understand why he had done it. To me that seemed like…such a huge sacrifice, especially for one person. But I think I understand now.” Veleth lifted one shoulder. “I met you and all the memories came back and I realized that he didn’t just do it for a friend…he did it for someone he considered family. He understood why you did what you did, much like he understood my reasoning for staying in Raven Rock as long as I did. He didn’t do it because you were a hero or because he felt he owed you for saving Morrowind. He did it because he considered you family. He never once thought any less of you for not coming back.”

“It seems we both owe him a lot.”

“And we both know he’ll give that annoying smug look.” Veleth sighed. “Because he was right and he knew it all along and we were too stubborn to see it.”

“Unfortunately that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” Nevano shook his head. “Now, before we get anymore into a sappy conversation that will irreparably damage both of our reputations. We need to discuss our plan of entry. I heard that there’s a wall that surrounds Blacklight’s harbor and the gate is manned by Thalmor?”

“Correct.” Veleth seemed happy to change the subject. “Don’t think about trying to climb that wall. It’s taller than the Bulwark and in much better shape. You won’t make it over without getting caught.”

“And going through the gate like a normal person isn’t an option either.” Nevano shrugged. “We’ll just have to go the other way.”

“The other way? There is no other way.” Veleth frowned. “What other way is there to get past that gate without getting caught?”

“Oh, that’s simple.” Nevano looked over at the nearest sailor. “Where’s the smugglers tunnel?”

The sailor looked panicked for a second before he schooled his features into a blank look. “I don’t know what you are…”

“Kid, EVERY harbor, beach, city, town, slum, castle, swamp and cesspit has a smuggler’s tunnel or some other black market route that moves illegal cargo to and from places without getting caught by the guards.” Nevano sighed, leaning against the railing. “You are perfectly well aware that Veleth and I are technically illegal cargo. So just tell me.”

“…There’s a man by the…”

“I’m not dealing with a middle man. I need to move quickly and NOT talk to anyone, or spend money, if I can help it.” Nevano narrowed his eyes at the sailor. “This includes you. I am known to fix loose ends if I need to. Are you going to help or are you going to swim the rest of the way home?”

“There’s a sewer grate by the third dock that’s hidden by a pile of crates! Follow the sewer tunnel down to the fifth hole and it’ll let you out on the other side of the wall.” The sailor blurted out quickly, completely unnerved when the twin swords hanging at Nevano’s hips flared briefly in warning. “Just be careful…it’s pretty open where it lets out. Most people take the cave route but it’s heavily watched by smugglers and they demand tolls.”

“Thank you.” Nevano relaxed his tone. “I’m not going to rat you out as long as you don’t rat me out.” He glanced at Veleth. “Oh, drop the look. Smuggling IS a problem. It’s a pain, it’s a crime…but it’s a highly lucrative source of information and to be able to move when you don’t want someone to see you. Smuggling has its place in the world. I swear you are such a stick in the mud that you make my arse cheeks clench.”

“It’s…”

“I’m going to stop you right there because I know what you’re going to say.” Nevano interrupted. “Remember, you aren’t Captain of the Guard anymore. You aren’t technically even in the Redoran army anymore. What we are planning on doing is breaking empirical law. We are committing the ultimate form of treason. Can you stomach that? Because if you can’t handle lying, cheating, stealing and killing to see this through, let me know now.”

Veleth narrowed his eyes, conflict written all over his face. Nevano felt himself mellow a bit towards him. It wasn’t Veleth’s fault. This was going to be the most difficult thing Veleth had ever done in his life, going against everything he had ever believed in. “It’s not going to be easy. You are going to go against everything you believe in. You won’t be the same after this…but think of Dreyla. You’re going to do this to make life BETTER for her.”

Slowly Veleth nodded. Nevano knew it wasn’t a full acceptance but eventually Veleth would be able to handle it easier. Well…maybe he should amend himself a bit. Veleth would never be able to fully accept or even be good at the “sneaky stuff” but he could at least instill an understanding of it in the stubborn warrior. 

“Ok then.” Nevano clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, I know how hard it is. This will stretch the very limits of your sanity. But we can do this.”

“Before or after we lose that sanity?”

“Sometimes it takes a little insanity to accomplish high treason.”

“A little?”

“Ok, a lot.” Nevano conceded. “Just…imagine the looks on the Thalmor’s faces when we boot them out for good. A ghost from the past and an uptight guard captain. They will never see us coming.”

“I hope not.”

They were both quiet for a while, watching the shoreline get closer in the dying light. Nevano wondered if Gunjar had made it back to Skyrim yet. He hoped the young Nord would be ok. There was a lot of “sneaky stuff” that he would have to face. At least Gunjar was a bit more open-minded than Veleth was. He might be able to navigate it better. Nevano frowned suddenly, a random thought popping up in his head. 

“I just thought of something.”

“What?” 

“Why was Gunjar waiting for a boat back to Skyrim when he would have just, I don’t know, flown home on the back of that dragon?”

XxXxXx

True to being stuck on a rocking boat for nearly a week, as soon as Nevano stepped off onto the dock, he fell flat on his face, his sense of balance completely skewed. Veleth rolled his eyes and hauled him up by the back of his cuirass with one hand, ignoring the curse muttered in Velothi. 

“I told you I hate being on the water. If Dunmer were meant to be on the water, we’d have fins and a tail!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard your complaints the first ten times.” Veleth rolled his eyes. “We need to move. The Thalmor don’t waste time inspecting the arriving ships.”

They hurried down the line of docks. Nevano noticed that the sailors were staying close to their ships and nearly every ship had a Thalmor Justicar standing guard nearby. Fortunately for them the Justicars were more distracted by grumbling, mutinous sailors to notice the two trying their best to like they belonged to avoid detection. 

“There’s the crates.” Nevano said quietly, pointing towards a stack of crates that looked as though they hadn’t moved in decades. Nevano was pretty sure they were rooted there by now. It was a fairly typical indicator of a smuggler tunnel. What always amazed him was that it was just oh-so glaringly obvious yet everyone would ignore it as if it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because it had been there for decades that it now became invisible to everyone except those who were actively looking for it.

“Sewers?”

“Fairly common place to hide. Mournhold probably had the best sewer system to hide in, though it was also probably the most dangerous.” Nevano found the grate and dragged it aside. “It connected the whole city, was filled with all manner of things that wanted to kill me and led to old Mournhold, which was quite possibly the most interesting place I ever got to explore…except it was filled with goblins. Those things get annoying pretty quick. With luck these sewers will be relatively well cleared if they’re used as often as that sailor suggested they were. After you, Bull.”

Veleth crawled through the grate and was quickly swallowed up by the darkness. Nevano looked around to make sure they weren’t being watched before slipping in after him, making sure to close the grate behind him. 

By sheer dumb luck they made it through the sewers without seeing anything and came out just outside the city gates. They quickly checked to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. 

“Nevano, listen.” Veleth stopped him. “From this point on, you need to listen to me. Like Councilor Morvayn said, you won’t be able to walk freely through the streets. Just…until we get a feel for how things really are, don’t go wandering off alone. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“Aww, aren’t you so sweet.” Nevano grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to get into trouble. But good luck keeping me on a leash. I think I’m a little better a hiding than you are. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll at least let you know before I go prowling around in the dark.”

“Dammit, Nevano, this is serious.”

“Well aware, Bull, but I stay stagnant in one spot, I won’t be able to gather up the information I need.” Nevano pointed out. “I know what I’m doing. Look, we’ll argue about this later. Where are we going now?”

“…Military district.” Veleth said after a moment. “It’s late, really late but…”

“No need to explain.” Nevano said. 

Nevano let Veleth take lead at that point. The guards at the gate were Dunmer guards and did no more than nod at them as they walked through. They made it a few streets in before Nevano noticed something. 

“You know, I’ve never been to Blacklight so…is it me, is it because it’s dark, or is everything…slanted?”

Veleth chuckled. “Most cities and towns are laid out in a block pattern, all straight lines going north, south, east and west. Blacklight isn’t. Rootspire is in the southwest corner of the city and everything else curves out from there like ripples in a pond. All the streets are curved. Nothing is straight here.”

“That’s….both highly confusing and incredibly appealing.”

“When I was a kid I used to sit on top of the foreign building and watch visitors try to make sense of where they were based on maps.” Veleth smiled, an actual true smile and not the grim curved line he often wore. “None of them ever figured it out. No map can help you. You just have to figure it out by feel.”

“In other words, I’m going to get lost more than a few times?”

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about you not going out alone?”

“Didn’t I just tell you that you can’t keep kitty inside all the time?”

“What is with you and animal references?”

“You can’t keep me contained!”

“Gods, fine, FINE!” Veleth pinched the bridge of his nose. “If it keeps you from shredding the walls…just stay out of sight.”

“And now WHO is using the animal references?” Nevano snickered, knowing he had finally won. “Don’t worry so much, I’ve been staying out of sight for decades. I’ll wear those lenses so no one sees my eyes just in case.”

“You are chipping away at my sanity.” Veleth grumbled. “Pretty soon I’m going to start…someone is coming.” 

Nevano knew that. He had heard the footsteps and while Veleth was talking had fled to a nearby alley and scaled the wall to the roof to get a better vantage point. He felt a flash of amusement when Veleth turned to where he had been moments before and blinked at the sudden empty space. 

“Modyn? Is that…really you? What are you doing here?”

“Dalin!” Veleth said. “I….uh…”

Nevano nearly slapped his hand to his face. They hadn’t worked on a good cover story and Veleth was not exactly good at this sort of thing. Subtly was a trait that had totally bypassed this kid. Still, he blamed himself. He stupidly assumed they wouldn’t meet anyone this late at night 

“Another mission that you can’t tell me about?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll say that.”

Nevano shook his head in dismay. Saved. Barely. They were going to have to work on that. Oh, he’d never make the man into a smooth-talker but he could at least teach him how to think quickly and how to actually lie his way out of a situation. How did this kid end up acting more like an Imperial and not like a Dunmer?

“So, are you actually here to do something useful or are you just here briefly before you go back to inhaling ash on that desolate spit of land?” Even Nevano had to wince at that.

“Don’t even go there. I made my choice just as you make yours. I won’t ever judge you for whatever choices you make and I would HOPE my oldest friend would do the same for me.” 

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” The mer called Dalin raised his hands in surrender. “Just…it’s been difficult around here lately.”

“How so?” Nevano perked up. Veleth was doing a better job at gleaning information that he gave him credit for, even though he strongly suspected it was purely accidental. 

“Just rumors swirling around. The Thalmor are a pain but there’s someone who fancies himself a hero who is making them mad. Now it’s impossible to deal with them.”

“I thought you liked stories about heroes, R’is.”

“Only children like that sort of thing. We live in a reality where heroes only make an already bad situation worse. The age of heroes is gone.” Nevano quite paying attention once the conversation turned to more banal things, though he kept an ear out. He could tell Veleth was a little rattled at that statement. He didn’t blame him; he was too. He had no idea what to make of that statement; hadn’t this mer heard of the most recent hero out of Skyrim? The one who killed the dragon that wanted to destroy the world? The Dragonborn? That hero? He was very thrown off. He had no idea what to make of this mer. From the story Veleth had told him of R’is, he was a good kid, with a deep sense of honor if hauling his injured friend across Morrowind to save his life was any indication. What he saw in front of him was not the same mer he had imagined. With a silent sigh he shoved his misgivings aside. He was in no position to judge just yet. R’is had proven himself to be a friend in the past. He needed to trust Veleth’s gut in this. Besides, R’is apparently hadn’t yet come to terms with Veleth’s extended absence. That was enough to make anyone cranky. Things would settle down soon and perhaps R’is would be a good ally to have around. 

Nevano just wasn’t going to introduce himself. Not yet. 

XxXxXx

The rest of the journey across the city was silent, both of them on high alert. Nevano opted to stick to the shadows as they got closer to the military district, darting from alleyway to alleyway and climbing up to rooftops when the need arose. He used every skill he had learned from moving through the boughs of the Great Forest. He was silent as a shadow, even surprising Veleth a time or two. That would shut him up about going out alone. 

Finally they got to their destination. The Military Justice building was a bland dark building that combined guard barracks and the offices of the guard. Its imposing nature reminded Nevano heavily of the Hall of Justice in Vivec. That Ordinator nest had had the same cheer that a graveyard at night did. This place wasn’t nearly as bad but it was still full of guards. Despite his closest friends being a part of the guard, he still held a certain degree of wariness for the law. He had been cornered by guards far too many times for things he didn’t do to feel fully comfortable around them anymore. Well…that wasn’t fair. The guards were doing their jobs. The Empire and Vivec himself had ordered them to harass him. Still, he never knew if yet someone else had given them orders to try to bring in the heretic for yet another made up charge. 

Veleth went over to him, a frown deepening the shadows on his face. Nevano felt himself tense up, reading the worried tension written there. Something wasn’t right. 

“He’s here.”

“How do you know?”

“See that window up there? Third story, second to the right.”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s his office. I can see light flickering in there.” Nevano counted windows until he found the one Veleth indicated. Sure enough he could see the faint flicker of candlelight, the only window with light in it. “It’s far too late for him to still be here.”

“Nice stops at midnight…” Nevano said slowly. He twisted his jaw for a moment, thinking quickly. “Ok, you go on up. I’ll climb up from the outside. Just unlock the window for me. The last thing we need to risk right now is running into a Thalmor in a narrow hallway.” 

Veleth nodded and hurried off. Nevano looked up at the wall before and rubbed his hands together. 

XxXxXx

Veleth bounded up the stairs to his father’s office, fortunately not meeting anyone along the way. He didn’t want to have to stop and acknowledge anybody or have to struggle to make up a story about why he was here in Blacklight and why he was here so late at night. That, and he felt something was…off. Every since he stepped foot in Blacklight and realized where he needed to look, he had felt something was wrong. Now that nagging feeling had grown into a firestorm that had him running up the stairs three at a time. 

“What the…Modyn?”

Veleth slammed to a halt before he could knock over the square shouldered woman standing in front of him. He knew her…Cruivah. Cruivah Ienith. She was a lieutenant under his father, one that he knew he could trust. 

“What are you doing…oh forget it, you Veleths always turn up at the right time. Or the wrong time.” She said. She glanced over her shoulder then lowered her voice. “I’m glad you’re here though. Our hands are tied with these fetchers. They’ve been harassing Jorun for weeks about…things and it’s getting worse. They’re in his office now just…be careful.”

Veleth nodded and made his way to his father’s office, clenching his jaw when he heard raised voices. Wait, no, check that…one raised voice. Not his father’s. He would know Jorun’s raised voice instantly. The whole building would be quailing like kicked dogs otherwise. Still, he didn’t like hearing any raised voices. He took a deep breath and let himself in.

Jorun was sitting at his desk, appearing bored and completely disinterested despite the violently bellowing Thalmor who was inches from his ear. He didn’t look up from the paperwork he was shuffling through; indeed he probably never even heard the door open. Veleth could only stare at the bizarre scene in front of him. 

“I know you know something!” An absolutely incensed Altmer was screaming, his face purpling in splotches. “He’s corresponded with you somehow and I WILL KNOW!”

“For the thousandth time, Ocanlil, the Nerevarine is in Akavir, thousands of miles from here.” Jorun said in a monotone, as if he had said it a hundred times, flipping a piece of paper over. He sounded bored but Veleth could hear the spark of irritation hidden underneath the monotone. It took a lot to get Jorun upset over anything but that was genuine anger growing in there. He was a little surprised though. It was well after midnight and Jorun usually was far crankier than this at this time of night. “I don’t know WHAT you s’wits had in Skyrim but you probably should have kept your mouths shut and it wouldn’t have been stolen.” 

“You miserable old FOOL!” The Thalmor, Ocanlil, screamed, waving his arms around. “YOU KNOW SOMETHING! And WHO are YOU?!”

Veleth felt his stomach clench as the Thalmor spun on him. He had yellow eyes like Nevano but he knew Nevano would probably lob another stink bomb, or Truefire, at him if he ever dared utter that thought out loud. However Nevano at his worst was nowhere near as crazed as this mer currently was. Jorun also looked up. For a brief moment, he quirked an eyebrow, saying he was both highly confused and highly pleased to see his son there. Then he cleared his face back to that bored detachment.

“This is…”

“I was asking HIM, captain.” The Thalmor growled. Veleth knew this was it. He knew he couldn’t give away his real identity but he and Nevano hadn’t yet worked out a good cover story. He tried to think of something but he was coming up blank. What would Nevano do? Azura’s light was he really thinking that? That was more terrifying than the situation he was in. Then his eyes caught sight of the roster list and he noticed a few blanks. 

“I’m just here to apply for the watch position.” He blurted out. 

“This late at night?” The Thalmor narrowed his eyes. 

“Night watch position.” Veleth hoped he sounded far more convincing than he felt. 

“As I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me…” Jorun said, standing up. “I had an application appointment but you never shut up long enough for me to get you the hell out of my office so I can get some actual work done.”

As Ocanlil exploded into another tirade, Veleth eased over to the window and unlocked the latch and shoved it open a little, hoping that Nevano would have enough sense to wait until the Thalmor left. He could see that his father was one wrong word away from snapping back and Nevano being added into the mix was only going to ignite the powder keg. Maybe he should relock the window and make Nevano wait a bit longer… 

“Wait…” Veleth grit his teeth as the irate Altmer came right up in his face, quickly squishing down the urge to punch him in the mouth. “I know who you are. You are Jorun’s brat. But you…you are supposed to be in Solstheim. What are you doing here? …You know something about the Nerevarine, don’t you? He was in Solstheim and now he’s here isn’t he?! Tell me! TELL ME!” 

Then something grabbed the Thalmor and he flew backwards out of the window in a shower of glass. 

Jorun came over to stand next to him, staring out the broken window. “ I have to commend you on getting rid of that annoying n’wah.” Jorun sighed. “However I’m going to have a real hard time convincing that fetcher’s brother that the wind did it.”

XxXxXx

A/N: A family scare prompted an adrenaline-fueled, hyper stress, writing spree that spit out this in record time. Most authors that actually write for a living say that you should accomplish 10,000 words in a week. I did over 5,000 in a span of less than 12 hours. The scare fortunately resolved itself into nothing (whew!) but then I had to finish because there’s something to be said for burning off nervous energy. I apologize for some jumblyness but I simply couldn’t stop myself and I’m having a hard time reading through this chapter as closely as I normally do.


	27. Once an Armiger, Always an Armiger

Chapter 26

Once an Armiger, Always an Armiger

XxXxXx

4E 201, 31st Last Seed – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano climbed up the side of the building, sharp eyes picking out every viable handhold in the wall. He sent up a quick thanks to Azura that the building was old and weathered, giving him enough handholds to have a fairly easy path up the building. As he climbed up he hoped that his and Veleth’s worry was for nothing and Jorun was simply working late or someone had left a lantern on or something but he knew he was grasping at straws. Veleth’s gut had proven itself to be just as accurate as his father’s and if he smelled trouble, Nevano could count on there being trouble. Also Jorun hated working past midnight, always had. He could be woken up after midnight and be fine but working up to and past that magic hour? That would spawn a certain breed of crankiness that even Nevano wanted to avoid. It had only gotten worse with age. That there were signs he was here past midnight was not a good sign. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Nevano knew that something was wrong. 

He was one floor below his target window when the first whispers of raised voices reached his ears. He leaned back as far as he could without falling off, frowning as he tried to get a better angle to hear with. He couldn’t fully make out the words but they were definitely coming from Jorun’s office. The voice wasn’t Jorun’s though. Jorun didn’t yell often. He was one of those people who could make an impression without having to raise the volume of his voice. On the rare occasions he did yell, every living being within earshot instantly started acting right whether they were already or not. 

Nevano scrambled up the last few feet, worry lending him a burst of speed and strength the last few rough inches. He could hear the voice clearly now. The accent wasn’t that of a Dunmer; it didn’t have that roughened edge. It was definitely the fine haughty tone of an Altmer, which meant Thalmor. He contemplated busting through the window but held himself back. He needed to give Veleth time to get up there and maybe diffuse the situation without bloodshed. Not that he had a problem killing a Thalmor but he figured that maybe he should try to hold off on baptizing his return to Blacklight in blood. 

A low rumble like distant thunder replied when the shrieking finally calmed down as Nevano finally anchored himself in a spot to wait for Veleth to open the window. That had to be Jorun. His voice wasn’t raised at all but Nevano could clearly hear the irritation as if it was spoken in his ear. He couldn’t blame Jorun in the slightest and was rather surprised that the offending fetcher doing all the screaming hadn’t gotten a sword shoved through his throat yet. He dared to climb up a bit closer, trying to hear what they were saying.

“WHO are YOU?!” Nevano froze, holding his breath. He knew that the Thalmor had to be addressing Veleth. His palms began to sweat. Oh Azura, Boethia and Mephala help them. If there was a moment that Veleth needed to miraculously come up with a convincing lie it was NOW. 

“I’m just here to apply for the watch position.” Nevano felt a tic develop in his left eye. Applying for watch position. THAT was the lie the kid went with? He could instantly poke a dozen holes in that lie and unless that Thalmor was a complete idiot, which Nevano knew their luck dictated he wouldn’t be, he would see right through that as well. That did it, he was writing out lines for Veleth from now on. 

“This late at night?” Nevano winced. That was the biggest hole and the Thalmor went right for it like a shark. 

“Night watch position.” Nevano let the breath he had been holding out with a rush. That was…a weak save, but a save nonetheless. 

“As I was saying, before you rudely interrupted me…I had an application appointment but you never shut up long enough for me to get you the hell out of my office so I can get some actual work done.” NOW Nevano could breath easier. Jorun had effectively distracted the Thalmor off the blatant lie and sent him off on another tirade. 

The window right above his head finally opened. Veleth stayed by the window, away from the screaming, pacing Thalmor. He couldn’t see Jorun though. He stayed hidden, curious as to whether or not the Thalmor was going to leave anytime soon or not. For some reason Jorun hadn’t killed this mer yet so there had to be reason why. For now he would trust Jorun’s reasoning for not doing so…until something gave him a good reason to act otherwise. 

“Wait…” The Thalmor got right up in Veleth’s face. Nevano had to smirk a bit at the look on the Bull’s face. He looked as if he was having an internal conflict over whether to slug the Thalmor in the face or simply head butt him. “I know who you are. You are Jorun’s brat. But you…you are supposed to be in Solstheim. What are you doing here? …You know something about the Nerevarine, don’t you? He was in Solstheim and now he’s here isn’t he?! Tell me! TELL ME!” 

That was the something Nevano had been waiting for. This Thalmor was digging into things he didn’t need to be sniffing around with and getting more than a little rabid about it. This was no longer an annoyance, this was dangerous and he needed to be removed as quickly as possible. Without really thinking about it, Nevano hoisted himself through the window and grabbed the Thalmor by the back of the belt. Before it could register in the other mer’s mind what was happening, Nevano pulled as hard as he could. The window shattered as the Thalmor went forcibly through and Nevano was showered with glass and splinters of wood. He watched the Thalmor bounce off the side of the building once and land in the darkened alleyway with a satisfying, and rather wet sounding, thud. A black shadow slowly spread from the still body. Nevano felt a grim satisfaction seeing that. 

“I’m going to have a real hard time convincing that fetcher’s brother that the wind did it.”

Nevano hoisted himself back up through the window. “Bull, we are definitely working on your espionage. That was BAD.”

“I…I don’t believe it. Nevano…” Nevano swallowed hard when he saw the shocked, but pleased, look on Jorun’s face. He had thought that seeing his old friend again would be…easier. Instead the joy he felt at seeing Jorun again was shot through with guilt of his extended absence and the shock at how much Jorun had changed over the years. He had almost forgotten that while he no longer aged, the rest of the world did. He still looked the same but Jorun was older…far older. Still he could see that age had done nothing to diminish him, he was still the same tall commanding presence he always had been. His son might be a bull, but Jorun was a block of granite. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

“Jorun, it’s been…far too long.” He ran his hand through his mane of hair, giving him a sheepish smile. 

“I always knew you’d come back. One way or another.” Jorun smiled warmly at him. Nevano bit the corner of his lip in an attempt to keep his wildly fluctuating emotions under control. Jorun just…accepted him. As always. 

“Damn, Jorun, why can’t you just be mad at me?” Nevano asked. 

“Because you just threw one of the biggest pains in my ass out the window.” Jorun grinned broadly. “Granted it creates a whole new set of problems but I’ve been contemplating ways to kill Ocanlil without making it seem too terribly obvious for weeks now. If that’s your way of apologizing for being gone for so long, I will happily accept.” 

Nevano smiled.

“Just don’t expect Drelasa to be so forgiving. And Modyn, your mother is incensed you didn’t say hello to her on your last trip here. As thrilled as I am to see the both of you, I’m not saving you from her.” Jorun laughed at the identical look of horror on both mer’s faces. 

XxXxXx

Drelasa Veleth, another near and dear friend that Nevano loved with his whole heart and would happily give his life to protect. Like her husband Jorun, she had simply accepted Nevano for who he was, not caring what the public opinion about him was. She had been there for him for all those years, from fussing over him after he had limped back from Red Mountain finally to allowing him to convince her to uproot her entire life and move to Blacklight before Red Mountain erupted. Nevano remember just how happy she had been when he had come to visit and she had settled her newborn son in his arms. He had been so thrilled for his two closest friends, especially he knew they had tried for decades for a child. 

However, there was another side to Drelasa, the side that both amused and terrified her entire family. Opposite to Jorun, who rarely raised his voice or got riled up over much, Drelasa had a temper that could be ignited with frightening ease. Nevano had set her off and ended up running from her more times than he cared to admit to. She always forgave him, eventually, but she certainly knew how to keep her household, Nevano included, in line. Usually though, she was always in a great mood when Nevano first saw her and he generally wore her nerves down from there. But now he was more than a little nervous and the prospect of the situation being played out in reverse. His mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to play this and come out with all his body parts still attached. He could tell by the stiff set of his jaw and shoulders that Veleth was having the exact same thought as well. He might have inherited his mother’s temper but it didn’t stand a chance against the source. 

As soon as they walked in the door there was a small figurative explosion. Drelasa had obviously been up waiting for her husband to get home, her worry and annoyance building with every hour he didn’t show. When the door finally opened she couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

“Aye, my dear, I know.” Jorun said calmly, not bothered in the slightest. “It’s alright now. Say hello to our son before you scare him off completely.” 

Nevano smirked as Drelasa launched into Veleth, who had a horrified look on his face, and started up a tirade, alternating between fussing over him and boxing him in the ears for not saying a word the last time he had been in Blacklight. Veleth tried to get a few words in edgewise but every time he was completely overwhelmed by his mother’s furious outburst. Finally Drelasa pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, ignoring his squawk of protest. Nevano snickered at the younger mer’s discomfort. 

“You quit smirking.” Veleth growled at Nevano as he struggled to free himself from his mother’s grip. 

Drelasa abruptly let go of her son and spun around to face Nevano…and froze. Nevano noticed with a jolt that, like Jorun, Drelasa too had aged. Grey streaked her hair and lines marred her face but, also like Jorun, it seemed age had done nothing more than affect her physically. Still it was just another painful reminder that Nevano just wasn’t like the rest of this world, that eventually he would be completely alone unless something finally killed him. 

Drelasa’s eyes went watery and Nevano realized his heart was pounding and his palms were starting to sweat. It was harder to face her than it was facing Jorun. He had no idea just what Drelasa was going to do and in all honesty, he would not blame her in the slightest for whatever she might decide to do.

His internal monologue was cut off suddenly as the strength of Drelasa’s fierce hug forced the air clean from his lungs. His arms were pinned to his sides so he couldn’t return the embrace but he realized that that was done on purpose. She was hugging him…but she had trapped him at the same time. 

“You FETCHER!” She screamed in his ear, making him cringe. “You son of a bitch! You haven’t visited, you haven’t written, we didn’t know if you were dead or alive and THEN we heard about Chorrol and I was so worried but did you send word? NO! You disappeared and no one knew where you had gone! NO ONE! We tried to track you but it was like you had vanished off the face of this planet! When Jorun told me about Truefire and Hopesflame I cried because I thought that you were lying dead and forgotten somewhere and I couldn’t even bring your body back for a proper burial! What is wrong with you and Modyn that you can’t send word? Didn’t you realize how WORRIED we’ve been? At least we knew where Modyn was this whole time even if he can’t seem to remember to say hello to his poor mother. We can’t search for you too much without bringing unwelcome attention to you and then you REALLY could be in trouble!”

Nevano glared over Drelasa’s shoulder as she continued ranting in his ear. “Now YOU quit your smirking, Bull.”

“Both of you are a mess.” Drelasa finally released Nevano and shoved him to stand next to Veleth, scrutinizing them both with a critical eye. “When was the last time either of you had a decent meal? Modyn, WHERE did you get that SCAR over your ear? Nevano…you have a cut on your face and it’s still BLEEDING!”

“It’s not that bad. Just a flying piece of glass from when I gave a Thalmor a lesson in humility.” Nevano shrugged then yelped with a warm glowing ball of energy hummed in his face. He felt his skin knitting itself together and had to resist the urge to scratch at it. 

“Don’t move.” Drelasa ordered.

“Shouldn’t you say that BEFORE you shove a glowing, itching ball in my face?” Nevano groused. 

“Nevano…”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand, ma’am. No moving.” Only two people in this world had ever had the power to make him behave just by saying his name like that. One was the short-tempered Fighters Guild champion and the other was this woman. 

“Good.” The glow faded and Nevano finally gave in and rubbed at the new skin. “Don’t scratch at it, you’ll undo all I just fixed.”

“You’ve gotten pretty good with the restoration magic…”

“I had no choice!” Drelasa glared at every male in the room, making each of them flinch in turn. Even Nevano had the grace to feel a little ashamed of himself. She definitely was in a mood and he couldn’t blame her. The three of them seemed to be able to do that fairly easily. “Every time one of you three walk through my door there’s SOMETHING that’s bleeding or needs to be re-attached or some bone that’s broken to bits…”

Before Drelasa could build up to another impressive rant Nevano heard a thud, the scrambling of claws on the hard floor and caught a flash of something dark brown and massive before it launched itself at him. He had no time to pull a weapon to defend himself as he was slammed hard onto the floor. He caught sight of massive teeth and realized they were coming at his face and…

He was being licked. Not just licked, he was being water boarded by hot, sticky slobber via a tongue he swore was as broad as his face and unnaturally long. He sputtered and struggled, shoving at the dark mass above him but a massive paw slapped one hand to the ground and his other hand simply sank into a fold of furry loose skin. 

“What is THAT?” He heard Veleth asked. 

“That…is your mother’s dog.” Jorun sighed. 

“A dog…”

“This is not a dog!” Nevano gasped as he extracted himself from the under the massive animal. “THIS is a cross between a old wrinkly guar and the wrong end of a donkey.”

The dog sat down after working out what to do with the long tail, which kept wagging happily. Every time the tail hit the chair next to it, the chair was moved a few inches. The dog was absolutely massive. They were both sitting flat on the floor and the dog was taller than he was. Nevano swore he had seen children riding ponies smaller than this dog. It was dark brown shot through with tan and grey streaks along its neck, back and sides. Its heavily wrinkled face looked as if it was melting. The only way Nevano knew where to find its mouth was by following the strings of slobber and long tongue to where the gaping cavern was huffing out clouds of foul smelling breath. 

Jorun sighed and shook his head. “I came home one day and she was tying a bow around this squirming little thing that, at that particular point, fit in her lap. By then it was too late to say anything. Then it started growing. Now you can practically ride the thing.”

“She is not a thing.” Drelasa protested, rubbing the dog’s tiny ears. “Her name is Lady.”

Nevano swiftly bit his tongue as hard as he could to stop himself from bursting out laughing. He tried to keep the incredulous grin from stretching across his face but it instead turned into some sort of grimace. He hoped Drelasa wouldn’t notice because he knew it would make her mad but he couldn’t help himself. Unfortunately for him, Drelasa missed nothing. 

“Don’t you dare laugh, Nevano.” Drelasa narrowed her eyes at him. Nevano felt his stomach muscles clenched spasmodically as he fought to keep a laugh down. 

“Oh, you are on your own.” Veleth held his hands up and took a step away. Nevano slapped a hand over his mouth and mouth as a strangled snort slipped out, trying, and failing, to pass it off as a sneeze. He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. As long as he could hold himself right here, he might be able to keep it under control until he calmed down. Then Jorun smirked and Nevano knew right then and there he was going to be sunk. 

“I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet. Nevano, her name is LA-DY. Lady of Wrinkles. She farts like a joker though…”

That did it. Nevano couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing, so loud and hard that tears sprang up in his eyes and his ribs began to ache. Jorun and Veleth both ducked their heads as the contagious laughter threatened to take over them as well. 

As it turned out Drelasa had learned a few destruction school spells over the years in addition to her mastery of restoration. Nevano could safely say that was the only time in his life, and probably would remain the only time in his life, that he had ever laughed while being electrocuted. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 1st Hearthfire

Nevano and Lady sat across from each other, staring at each other face to face. Nevano narrowed his eyes at her. Lady thumped her tail happily, panting heavily. 

“Ok, here’s how it’s going to go.” Nevano said. “You don’t jump on me and I will find a way to feed you a chicken a day.”

Lady woofed, a deep reverberating noise that made Nevano wonder if she had dragon in her blood. 

“A cow? It’ll be like the giants in Skyrim. I’ll put sacrificial paint on it and everything.”

Another woof and the massive beast lumbered over to try to lick Nevano in the face. While he fended her off he could hear Jorun in the other room asking Veleth to take a letter somewhere. Every time he tried to listen in a bit more he got a tongue to the ear. Finally he managed to shove the insistent dog off him. Curious, Nevano got up and went into the other room, rubbing at his ear to get the dog slobber off. 

Nevano raised an eyebrow when he saw Jorun waiting for him, a well-worn chessboard laid out on the table, all ready to play. He knew how to play and considered himself a fairly decent player but in all the decades he had known him, he had never once beaten Jorun. The man was an excellent player, trapping Nevano’s pieces so subtly that he once lost in four moves without even realizing it. Despite knowing he was going to lose and probably embarrassingly so, he also knew that this was a silent invitation from Jorun to talk. So he sat down behind the line of white pieces and contemplated the board for a moment before making the first move.

“Pawn E2 to E4. So, Jorun, what became of the Buoyant Armigers?” Nevano went straight to the point he’d been dying to ask for a long time. He’d ask about the letter later. “No one has any idea what happened to them. They just…dropped off the face of the map. But we all know that things don’t just up and disappear. Unless you’re a dwemer that is…”

“What makes you think there are any left? Pawn E7 to E5.”

“I’m talking to one right now. Once an Armiger, always an Armiger. Knight G1 to F3.” Nevano smirked. “They didn’t disappear anymore than I did. You are very good at hiding everyone else’s tracks and convincing everyone you’re an old nut who knows nothing.”

“Stop blowing my cover.” Jorun chuckled. “Knight B8 to C6”

“Sorry, my old friend, but I’ve recently discovered that you are a very convincing liar. I always knew you were good, but this latest ruse? I’m highly impressed. I thought for a moment there I had lost my mind and HAD gone to Akavir without realizing it. I had no idea that you were the one behind it. HOW I didn’t hear that stupid rumor for all this time I’m not real sure. Still I’m willing to bet that if someone had tried to trace the source of that rumor it would land them somewhere in Elsweyr. Why couldn’t you teach your kid that handy little skill? Oh, Bishop F1 to B5. Quit matching my moves.”

“It used to be easier to fool you, kid. Knight F8 to E7.” Jorun smiled. “And Modyn has no patience for ‘sneaky stuff’. I’ve tried. He was so easy to lie to when he was younger that it took the fun out of it. He catches on now usually, but it just annoys him. You always caught on…eventually. It depended on your mood.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You often let your emotions get the better of you, Nevano.”

“N’chow! Well! Ok, so…Pawn C2 to C3.” Nevano coughed, the tips of his ears heating up. “Back to the subject at hand, now that you thoroughly distracted me. What news on the Armigers?”

Jorun finally laughed. “Alright, alright. I had my amusement watching you fish for it. You are right, the Buoyant Armigers are still around. After Vivec disappeared and the Tribunal Temple lost its power, the Armigers had no one to answer to anymore. The Grand Marshal gathered together all the officers to reevaluate the function of the Armigers. After a little while of debating…” 

“Meaning several weeks of heated arguments that nearly came to bloodshed?”

“Yes, that.” Jorun sighed. “Anyway, despite the fighting they could agree on one thing; the Armigers had fought valiantly against the daedra during the Oblivion Crisis. I remember that fight. I thought I had seen it all when we faced those waves of ash vampires after you killed Dagoth Ur but that seemed like child’s play in comparison to the daedra that just came pouring at us. I’ve never seen monsters like that before and I hope to never see the like again. Faith in the Tribunal had been wavering at that point since you turned our world upside down but after fighting off those demons and then Vivec just…disappeared? The whole nation felt abandoned and that’s putting it mildly. Many of us in the ranks came to the realization that we could only rely upon ourselves to protect our home and family. That sentiment carried itself up through the Armiger ranks and was what was kicking around in the Grand Marshall’s mind. It wasn’t easy to change since we had devoted ourselves so wholeheartedly to Vivec but the decision was reached that instead of disbanding, the Armigers would continue to protect the people of Morrowind…but in a different capacity. They withdrew from the public face entirely, becoming as covert and secretive as the Dark Brotherhood. They no longer answered to the Temple, Tribunal, Reclamations or otherwise. They became a completely independent organization that has devoted themselves to more “clandestine” work, stealing information, scouting, infiltration and the like. Pawn D7 to D6.” 

“That I would not have guessed…the Buoyant Armigers turned into a extensive network of spies. Impressive. Pawn D2 to D4.”

“As I said; spying, scouting, assassinations, infiltration.” Jorun said, tapping his fingers on the board. “In the beginning it was difficult as they worked out how to best operate without becoming associated with the Morag Tong, the Thieves Guild or even the Dark Brotherhood. They didn’t want to be murder for hire, legal or otherwise, and they certainly didn’t want to be considered lowly cutpurses, and Azura forbid they get mistaken for the empire’s Blades, so it took a while for them to settle into their niche but over the past few centuries they’ve come into their own and earned quite a bit of respect. They’ve even been able to steal secrets from the Thalmor without getting caught. Bishop C8 to D7.”

“So THAT’S how you know so much!” Nevano jumped up, his chair clattering to the ground behind him. Jorun slapped a hand to the table to keep the chess pieces from bouncing off the board. “You…I should have known! I knew that gut was good but not THAT good!”

“As you said: once an Armiger, always an Armiger.”

Nevano began to pace, his hands tapping his upper arms as his mind raced frantically. “This…suddenly isn’t just a conspiracy between two guard captains and the councilor of a far-flung outpost, is it? This whole thing against the Thalmor…it really is turning to war isn’t it?”

“Well, it DID start out as a pipe dream but never lifted off further than just grumbling amongst ourselves. Then Truefire and Hopesflame ended up in Thalmor hands and were being held for ransom; the legendary swords of Nerevar and Almalexia would be returned to Dunmer hands in return for our complete submission to Thalmor law. Suddenly there was a little bit of alarm in everyone’s mind, that maybe we should give a bit more thought to our rebellious grumblings.” Jorun gave him a sharp look suddenly. “Then SOMEONE not only stole the swords back but DECLARED WAR against the Thalmor after trashing the embassy in Skyrim. Someone who matched the description of the person who slaughtered an entire Thalmor unit in Chorrol back during the Great War. The Thalmor have been frothing at the mouth since, making my life difficult. Know something about that?”

“I might have a thing or two to add to your account of things.” Nevano said blandly. “I can’t take credit for trashing the whole embassy though. That would be a kid called Gunjar. Oh and the King hiding behind the rook thing. Forgot what that’s called.”

“Once again Nevano, you came crashing right into the middle of things without realizing it. Knight E7 to G6. And it’s called Castling.”

“Whatever. So did your son.” Nevano righted his chair and settled back down. “Knight F3 to G5.” 

“That is what concerns me the most.” Jorun frowned. “There’s nothing I can do to stop it or get him out of it. I highly doubt he would let me at this point. Pawn H7 to H6.”

“Jorun, I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t come back to help with this conspiracy. Morvayn told me about it and started trying to pester me into coming here not long after I got to Solstheim and I wanted nothing to do with it. Your son was the only reason I came back.” Nevano narrowed his eyes, studying the board. “Knight G5 to F7. Good-bye pawn. Oh, and check. Veleth told me all what happened to him and how he got to Raven Rock and I think I got a Veleth premonition. I knew what was going to happen and I couldn’t let your bull of a son do this alone. Sneaky stuff would tear him apart in a matter of seconds. As to what happened in Skyrim…I lost Truefire and Hopesflame purely by accident and I didn’t care who or what I pissed off to get them back. When I declared war on the Thalmor, as everyone called it, I wasn’t thinking about actually declaring war on them. I said it just to get a rise out of them. I was thinking about getting my swords back, the only things I had to…care for since Chorrol. I was happy to go on my way, losing myself in whatever gutter I found myself in and just kill whatever Thalmor crossed my path without really thinking about what the hell they were doing in the rest of the world. But…”

“But?”

“Azura intervened. And Nerevar. And the Dragonborn, of all people. They wouldn’t leave me to fade into total obscurity in peace. I was forced to face everything I was running from…and then I met a mer getting his arse beat on the beach by some freak of nature monsters and it turns out he was my closest friend’s SON. I could HEAR Azura laughing! And Mephala! Nerevar hasn’t stopped smirking since that day. I tried to turn away from it but they wouldn’t leave me alone. They pushed and pushed until I thought I was going to go insane. Then the Bull told me his story and that was when I knew. What is with you Veleths that always seem to convince me to do things I really don’t want to do?”

“It’s a family trait.” Jorun smiled. Nevano felt the knot of tension he hadn’t even realized he had unravel in his stomach. Jorun had not only made sense of the jumble of words that poured from his mouth, but also understood the meaning behind it. He didn’t judge on it, he didn’t berate Nevano over it. He simply accepted it, just like he always did. The knot finally settled into a comfortable warm ball, allowing Nevano to finally relax. “But…thank you. You being with him puts my mind at ease. Doesn’t make this endeavor any less dangerous but you two compliment each other so well that I think your chances of survival greatly improved. King E8 to F7.”

“See, now we’re on mushy stuff and you know I do that about as well as your kid does sneaky stuff.” Nevano said, doing his best to keep the waver out of his voice. “But you’re welcome. I remember when he was still smaller than me and, well…Uncle Nevano won’t let the kids go running off to an underground war alone. Now, before I say anything else incredibly heartfelt and highly embarrassing, can we please get to the planning part? Knight B5 to C4. Check again.”

“Yes.” Jorun smiled warmly. “I already have a bit of an idea of where we should probably start. There’s a reason I sent Modyn on that errand. Once I get confirmation on it, we can get started and maybe build from there. King F7 to E7.” 

“Going to tell me or do I get to be surprised? Queen D1 to H5.”

“I’m going to surprise you. I know you love surprises. Queen D8 to E8” Jorun leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Oh, and Nevano?”

“Yes?”

“No wandering around the city alone this time.”

“Why does everyone keep SAYING that?!” Nevano groused. “Queen H5 to G5

“Because you are the embodiment of trouble. Not even Azura’s protection and Nerevar’s soul in you has done much to curb that.” Jorun gave him a flat look. “Remember the last time I let you wander around alone? That bar STILL won’t allow drinking competitions after the brawl you started.”

“It wasn’t a brawl, it was a simple disagreement between two inebriated persons over payments owed.” Nevano said huffily. “Said drunk didn’t want to hand over the debt he incurred so I simply encouraged him along. That I chose to encourage him by smashing a clay mug over his head was not considered too outrageous considering the circumstances. That his equally inebriated friends decided to start smashing their own drinking containers on everyone else’s heads was not my fault. It also wasn’t my fault that a mage got startled enough to cough up a fireball, which landed on spilled booze and set the place on fire. I have to ask though, how long did it take for them to rebuild that place?”

“Almost a year. Lot of fighting over that one.”

“Then my job there was complete.”

“Trouble. You are TROUBLE, Nevano.” Jorun laughed. 

“Yes but because no one was seriously injured in that fire…it was so worth it.” 

“Yes, well, we both know you aren’t going to listen so do me a favor.” Jorun continued once he saw Nevano’s ear twitch his direction. “No more lighting any bars on fire, intentional or otherwise. The soldiers off this rotation just might riot if you somehow destroy their favorite bar. Ah, pawn H6 to G5. I’ll take that queen.”

“May I ask which bars those might be…?” Nevano asked as casually as he could. “Knight C1 to G5.”

“Right outside the military district, directly east of the market road. Like you’ve ever forgotten where a tavern is.” Jorun snorted. “Huh, a stalemate.”

“Against you, I’ll consider it as finally meeting you on equal ground rather than both of us losing.”

“Ah Nevano, you’ve always been on equal ground with me.”

“Dammit, stop it with the mushy stuff!”

Jorun laughed as he reset the board. “Along with not setting bars on fire, also do me the favor of at least waiting for the furor over that fetcher you killed to die down a little AND hide those eyes of yours. Just keep your identity secret for now.”

“I know the routine.” Nevano agreed. “Besides, why ruin the surprise? I want to see the looks on everyone’s faces personally.” 

“Oh, you will surprise them alright. Of that I am sure.” Jorun agreed, and then motioned to the chessboard. “Again?”

“I’m going to regret this but alright.”

A few hours later, Nevano was cursing as he resoundingly lost game after game. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 4th Hearthfire

Jorun was right, Nevano wasn’t going to listen and stay inside. He had been plagued by a rather nagging suspicion that he couldn’t shake no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he was being as paranoid as his friends. Sitting around and behaving wasn’t going to do anything but make him even more jittery. He did give it a few days before he set out though that was more because he didn’t want Drelasa to tear him a new one and less because he was letting the Thalmor calm down. Jorun had been right about that; they had been as thick as sewer rats in the streets the past few nights but finally had lessened to a tolerable degree. He did keep his promise though; he stayed out of sight and wore his lenses, even though it rendered him nearly blind in the dark. 

As he wandered more towards the heart of the city, towards the bars that Jorun had helpfully listed for him, he allowed his mind to wander towards his quarry: Dalin R’is. He had no idea why he was so suspicious of the man. Maybe it was because he was so…bitter against the world. Maybe it was because he had had higher expectations for him. Or maybe it was because simply didn’t like the younger mer. Or, Nevano mused darkly, a combination of all three. Either way he wanted to find R’is and get to know him better…from a safe distance. He was hoping that if he got the chance to see the mer in a more “natural setting”, so to speak, and not tense and upset it would put his suspicions to rest and he wouldn’t have to worry so much about Veleth. 

“I’m getting too old to worry about these damn kids so much…” Nevano muttered under his breath. Yet he knew he couldn’t help himself. He would always care about his friends’ kids. When Gunjar finally had kids, he knew perfectly well what would happen; a drooling, smelly baby would be thrust at him and his battle-scarred heart would melt into a puddle and he would happily coo and babble in an embarrassing fashion until the babe would smile and burble right back while the parents smirked. It happened with Veleth and it would happen with Gunjar’s future kids. Even after the kids grew up into bull-headed bastards that talked him into playing the hero again…he still couldn’t help himself. Uncle Nevano would still look after them. 

He got lucky. The first bar he walked into, his sharp ears picked out the voice he had committed to memory from that first night. He kept his hood pulled down low and settled himself at a table where he was relatively secluded but could see the younger mer sitting with a group of other young soldiers who were drinking watered down drinks. Nevano snorted. Young mer who didn’t know how to hold their alcohol. He ordered the strongest sujamma the tavern had and settled in to watch and listen. 

“Did you hear what that one man from Zyr said?” One of the youngest looking in the group was saying excitedly. “He said he saw some sort of monster come out of the woods and slither into the sea.”

“Probably a dreugh.” R’is said dismissivly. Nevano rolled his eyes. So the mer was just a naturally jaded mer. It didn’t quite fit in what Veleth had told him about this man. What had happened to make him this way?

“You are an absolute kill joy tonight, R’is.” Another soldier accused.

“We all know that dreugh live on land then they slither off into the sea and turn into an annoying octopus.” R’is said. 

“Oh come on.” The first soldier said. “Can’t you for once imagine that it’s some new monster that we haven’t seen before?”

“Sure I can. Just not one that we’ve already seen before.”

“What is with you tonight?”

“Nothing, nothing.” R’is downed his drink. “Too much to deal with from commanding officers and not drunk enough yet.”

The train of conversation went along in that same vein for hours before the small group of drunk soldiers, R’is included, finally got up and staggered out. Nevano sighed and shoved his barely touched third drink away. R’is had never deviated from the topics that every soldier, warrior, fighter, adventurer the world over complained about. He didn’t even tell a slightly amusing story. He was, in short, a boring jaded mer. He briefly entertained the idea of following R’is but didn’t really see the point. The kid was drunk and would be lucky if he made it back wherever he was staying before passing out. Besides he didn’t seem to be any sort of threat. He had never once mentioned Veleth to anyone else though the opportunity had come up several times. Either he didn’t care or respected his old friend enough to keep that information on the down low. Either way, Veleth was safe from this mer. Mission somewhat accomplished. Nevano sighed. He should have trusted Veleth’s gut. Instead he had allowed his own distrust get the better of him. Certainly this had been a waste of his night. Not necessarily a waste of sujamma though. He picked his cup back up again and swirled it around. The drinks weren’t half bad. Maybe he should get another before heading back. 

In the end he decided against it. He still had to find his way back and the last thing he wanted to do was navigate this confusing city at night while slightly buzzed. He hadn’t refamiliarized himself with Blacklight yet and he did not need to get lost while following his usual protocol for heading back to wherever he was staying. So he slipped back out into the night and began his elaborate journey home, turning down just about every street and corner in order to confuse and throw off anyone who might have it in his or her mind to follow him. 

He slipped back in the house about an hour before sunrise and came face-to-face with a pair of brown eyes partially hidden by a cowl of wrinkles. A hot, damp, putrid cloud puffed in his face and a dull thumping of a wagging tail greeting him. He froze, holding his breath partially because he couldn’t stand the smell of Lady’s breath and partially because he didn’t want to break whatever spell was keeping the massive pile of wrinkles from jumping on him. His eyes widened as the thumping slowly stopped and Lady’s head tilted to the side, her tongue disappearing back into the cavernous mouth. 

“No. Nononono, Lady, no.” Nevano whispered desperately as the strangely tiny ears pricked at the sound of his voice. “You stay down. Down. No…no DOWN!” Lady ignored him entirely and leaped up, paws hitting Nevano squarely in the chest and knocking him flat on his back. Nevano gasped for air to replace was knocked from his lungs and gagged as he accidentally inhaled slobber from the happy tongue that incessantly bathed his face. “You slobbery, wrinkly, too-big n’wah! Get off! Bad dog!” 

“You deserve that.”

Nevano jerked and looked up to see Veleth watching him. “Do you ever actually sleep?”

“When my gut isn’t tell me that someone is out doing something stupid I can usually get a solid six hours or so.” He said, crossing his arms. 

“I refuse to apologize and it wasn’t stupid. I had to find something to drink.” It wasn’t fully a lie. He HAD gotten something to drink after all. Still, as Jorun said, it was depressingly easy to lie to the younger mer. “Morrowind is the only place in this world that knows how to make a halfway decent drink. Wait, I take that back…Geldis finally managed to find the perfect drink that knocked me out. Still, had to reestablish a watering hole here. Wasn’t disappointed.”

“You realize you have a problem right?” Veleth said, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“As long as my liver keeps working, it’s not a problem.” Nevano grunted as he shoved at Lady. “Can you please pull this stupid dog off me?”

“You know what? I think I like you right there.” Veleth smirked, a look so reminiscent of Jorun that Nevano felt his stomach turn to ice. “I think I’m starting to get a little fond of this dog. We’ll at least always know where you are. I’m going back to bed for a few hours.”

“No you don’t, you FETCHER!”

“Good night, Nevano. Or rather, good morning.” Veleth gave him a little wave as he left.

Nevano cussed him out in every language he could think of as he was left alone, pinned to the floor by an over-sized, over-zealous hound that was perfectly happy to remain cuddled on his chest. Suddenly he wished he had had that last drink. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 6th Hearthfire

“My apologies for this taking longer than I thought.” Jorun said a few days later as he motioned for both Nevano and his son to sit down. Nevano noted with interest that all the windows and doors were closed, shuttered and locked. “It took longer than expected to get a reply and it wasn’t the one I was expecting.” 

“So, are you our spymaster?” Nevano asked, only half kidding. 

“Spymaster? No. I don’t orchestrate. I organize.” Jorun said. “In between patrol routes and minor civil matters, I keep track of information.”

“Is that your job with the Armigers?”

Jorun gave him a slightly pained look that clearly told him that while he wanted to tell Nevano, he simply couldn’t. 

Nevano quickly waved him off. “If you can’t answer, don’t worry about it. You got the information; I don’t need to know how you got it. Just…don’t have little scouts following me everywhere. I don’t want to pop their egos by picking them out of the shadows every time.”

“Fair enough.” Jorun said. “Now, this is going to be difficult, not to mention incredibly dangerous, but I think I know where we can start.”

“Hasn’t this already started?” Nevano asked, slightly distracted as Lady came into the room, tail of doom wagging as she padded over to them. 

“Yes and no.” Jorun said. “It has started in the sense that all the complaining and plotting from the councilors is finally coming to fruition but also, no, it hasn’t because no one is yet willing to get their hands dirty.”

“Except us.” Nevano said flatly. His hand twitched when he felt hot breath on his fingers. 

“Except us.” Jorun said with a sigh. “Though that really shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“No, it’s not.” Nevano said, crossing his arms over his chest so he wouldn’t have to feel Lady panting on him. “Not sure why I thought otherwise. So, let me get this straight…there’s…a plan, sort of. But all the players are sitting on their hands, holding their breath, waiting to see if someone else is going to move first? Again, unsurprised but so very disappointed.”

“Well, to be fair, there was always that one person missing.”

“The scapegoat.”

“No. The hero.” Jorun sighed. “Nevano, think about it. Three gods, GODS, couldn’t accomplish what you, a little, scrawny, unwilling runt, accomplished on Red Mountain. An army of Blades couldn’t accomplish what a petite girl and a clueless priest managed to accomplish in Cyrodiil. The entirety of Skyrim, past and present, couldn’t accomplish what your friend Gunjar did. All these events, carried out by ONE person. Zurin Arctus; “Each even is preceded by prophecy. But without the hero, there is no event.” I don’t know what prophecy talks about THIS and I know you hate prophecies but in every story there’s always been that one person who tips the scales. It didn’t HAVE to be you, but you told me yourself, you were led here. Scapegoats are thrown in front of the lion to be eaten alive, not given the opportunity to destroy a faction they’ve hated for a few decades.”

“Quit using my own words against me. You’re as bad as Nerevar and Azura.” Nevano groused. “It’s just trickier this time, Jorun.”

“I know. Which is why I’m glad you’re here. We need to work fast.”

“How is it trickier?” Veleth spoke up. He had been silent thus far, listening with such an intensity that Nevano was surprised he hadn’t popped a blood vessel yet. This was all still very new to him; very different than bluntly following orders he was given. In fact, this was only the second time he had ever dealt with such a covert quest and Nevano could see he was determined for it to go differently than last time. He was determined to learn and Nevano was happy enough to teach him.

“Because this is not a good against evil battle.” Nevano swiftly held up a finger to stop Veleth from speaking further. “Let me explain. Dagoth Ur, Mythic Dawn, Mehrunes Dagon, Alduin, Miraak, all the way down to that nut job apprentice I killed back in Solstheim. They all had one thing in common and that was indiscriminate slaughter of anyone who stood in their way, innocent or foe. Every single one of those it was easy to see the lines of division between inherently good and inherently evil. Now, take what Tiber Septim did. He essentially took over all of Tamriel and unified it through years of conflict and war. Which side would you have stood on then? Each province was fighting for its independence but was swallowed up one at a time. Now, no one bats an eye at it or cares what others thought of him back then because look at the outcome. Tamriel was unified and at peace under the empire. Tiber Septim is considered a hero. Hell, he was made a DIVINE. Now we come to today, the Thalmor are doing EXACTLY what Tiber Septim did. The lines of division are blurred. It is not so black and white.”

“How can it not be black and white?”

“Because there are many choices here. On one side we have the Thalmor, the Altmer who are basically reenacting Tiber Septim’s march across Tamriel in…what, late second era? Some people believe that, despite all the conflict now, they can bring about another era of peace that hasn’t been seen in centuries. To them, the Thalmor will be worth it in the long run. On another side we have the rotting remains of the Empire, which the people have known their whole lives. Sure its run by the Thalmor but they don’t care. They’re scared and the empire has always taken care of them so they will continue to rely upon it. Then, in the final corner, we have us, the rebels. We are unproven and represent chaos, change and conflict, things that people normally avoid like the plague. Now here’s the real confusing part; none of these sides are wrong.”

“Excuse me, what?” Veleth blinked. 

“None of the three factions that are running around here are inherently evil. I can vilify the Thalmor and the empire all day long BUT they can do the exact same thing about me and they have and they will.” Nevano was actually surprised he hadn’t seen wanted posters up yet. “Everyone who is a part of those factions fully believes they are right and there is nothing we can do to change their minds. Well…the Mythic Dawn thought they were right too but no one is summoning daedra in this case…”

“So you’re telling me it’s going to be a civil war like in Skyrim.”

“No.” Jorun jumped in. “Because right now all three opinions are like a low buzz with the majority of the populace sitting in the middle wondering which way to go. It’s building in intensity but no one side is louder than the other. In order to be anything that can stand up to the Thalmor, we have to be a unified nation. We have to be a bigger presence, something to make our side more attractive to everyone, to convince them that change is nothing to be frightened of.”

“Exactly what do you propose?” 

Nevano grinned even as he toed the massive dog to stop poking him with her cold, wet nose. “I see where you’re going with this Jorun and I must say I’m impressed. You aren’t looking for one or two people to do everything…you are looking to build an entire army, an entire independent province.”

“That’s the end goal, yes.” Jorun gave a grim smile. “As for one or two people doing it all, well, you’ll be involved the entire way so don’t think you’re off the hook. This won’t be easy, not by a long shot, and there’s a lot of work ahead of us and precious little time.”

“I’ve been known to make long shots.” Nevano said. “So, what’s first on your list?”

“Military first. Hard to sleep at night when there’s nothing keeping the wolf at bay. Provide security and you start to inspire trust.” Jorun said. “Now, the Redoran Militia will happily support us in this endeavor. I happen to know that all the generals hate having the Thalmor around and that High General Theron has been itching to take a shot at driving them out. They are just waiting for the order from the councilors but that’s another step that we aren’t on now. Buoyant Armigers are a given. However, we haven’t heard from the Ordinators in a long time.”

“Where are they? I didn’t see any around town.” Nevano had enough of Lady constantly poking at him under the table. He hauled her out, forced her to sit and rested his feet on her head. She wagged her tail happily, nearly knocking Nevano’s chair over in the process, but was happy enough to sit still. 

“They cling to Mournhold. They’ve been busily rebuilding the city.” Jorun said. “The Redoran soldiers stay in Safepoint Adrusa, just north of the city, while the Ordinators stay in Mournhold itself. There’s some tension between the two as the Ordinators are being incredibly stubborn about letting go of the past but for the most part they work together in keeping things safe there. Modyn, which general is in charge at Adrusa again?”

“General Garil. The Safepoint was named after his wife.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right.” Jorun nodded. “Now, the whole reason why I waited a few days to even bring all this up.”

“And here comes bad news…” Nevano did not like the look on Jorun’s face at all. 

“Well, it’s not good news.” Jorun conceded. “Now, I’ve been scratching my head over HOW to convince the Ordinators to agree to work with us because there’s no way they will agree if we simply go up and say please. But this recent report says that something is going on in Mournhold but they haven’t quite figured out what.”

“Haven’t figured out what?”

“That’s right. That’s all the report says. Garil has no idea what’s going on. The Ordinators have holed up in the city and refuse to let anyone in. There has been sounds of fighting coming from Mournhold but no one can say just WHAT is going on in there. Even the scouts can’t figure out what’s going on.”

“Lemme guess; that’s our job?” Nevano sighed.

“Yup.” Jorun smiled. “If you can find a way to help the Ordinators out, I’m fairly certain you can convince them help us in return. Think of it as finally putting the Ordinators in your debt, Nevano.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Nevano grinned at Veleth. “To Mournhold then?”

“To Mournhold.”

XxXxXx

A/N: Ok, I’m really excited to be headed into Mournhold and finally reveal just WHAT I have planned for this part (seriously, I am) but remember that little emergency that turned out to be nothing? Yeah, right, there’s no such luck in my family. It came back with a roaring vengeance and blew up. Badly. Very badly. I’ve been alternating between numbing my mind completely to get through school work, crying silently while watching TLC (or ID Discovery) re-runs, and bolstering myself up with a combination of witty one-liners, liquid inspiration and Internet memes. Just…bear with me as I get my family and myself through this. I will keep writing because typing out Nevano’s quirky little attitude is the only thing keeping me from falling completely off the deep end but I can only handle like a paragraph at a time before my brain cracks in half. It’s the little things in life you find that keep you going and Nevano just happens to be one. On a lighter note, I finally got to play Drelasa how I’ve had her in my head all along. Someone has to be able to keep two Veleths and Nevano in line, right?

P.S. - I have to admit to a mistake on my part. In the last chapter Nevano said he had never been to Blacklight before. That is WRONG. In my haste in giving a description to the city streets, I had forgotten that I have alluded to Nevano being in Blacklight several times in the past (then blatantly blasted that in this chapter). I meant to say he hadn’t been to Blacklight in such a long time that he had forgotten what it looked like. This just proves my mind has been all over the place lately… My apologies. 

Random bonus fact: developers admitted that the insane number of cliff racers in the Morrowind game was a mistake. Why do I think they officially said it was a mistake while at the time they were laughing evilly while high-fiving each other for giving every player a facial tic over having to kill a cliff racer every .48598 seconds?


	28. Unexpected, Unprepared and Unplanned

Chapter 27

Unexpected, Unprepared and Unplanned. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 8th Hearthfire – Somewhere along the northwestern bay, Morrowind

It felt good to be on the road again, walking paths he hadn’t tread in decades. It was nice to see that there was one thing that hadn’t changed in his long life and that was Morrowind herself. The lives of elves might be long, the lifespan of empires and nations longer still, but the land itself was eternal. It refused to change for anyone. It would only change for itself. People had chopped down its trees, tilled its land and mined its ore before moving on but slowly the land reclaimed its own, regrowing its trees and swallowing up all traces of habitation. Occasionally, like with Red Mountain, the land would violently erase all traces of habitation, returning to its wild origins while ferociously protecting itself from further urban disturbance. The western mountain range of Morrowind wasn’t quite so violent. It was ancient and wise and preferred to stand as a sentinel against the bitter cold of Skyrim than to do battle against the beings that called its rocky slopes home. 

The road was a hard one, rocky and hilly as it wound around the foothills of the Veloth Mountain range, made even rougher as they avoided the main road, but Nevano enjoyed the challenge. Veleth was easily one of the most enjoyable travel companions he had ever had. He was used to navigating rough terrain and could easily match Nevano’s pace. Then there was his tracking skill; he was the best tracker Nevano had ever seen. He had a natural gods given gift of being able to pick out the tiniest detail but added with his suspicious intuition nothing got past him. Nevano could easily get spoiled having him around. Though how he navigated so easily in that heavy armor would forever remain a mystery. 

“I haven’t really kept up with the past several decades. What can you tell me about the Ordinators?” Nevano asked when they took a quick break from the heat of the sun in the shade of a large boulder.

“Well, after Almalexia disappeared, her personal guards, the Hands of Almalexia, were replaced by the High Ordinators. Slowly they took over the watch as well until the whole city was pretty much run by Ordinators. As my father said, they found it far more difficult to let go of their past ties than the Armigers and stuck with their original capacity as Temple Guards.” Veleth said. “When the Argonians invaded, the Ordinators were the only thing that kept the city from being completely wiped off the face of the map. Many were killed but they held their position until the last living person managed to escape before they retreated. They hated giving up the city and fought until they reclaimed the remains of it.” 

“I’ve got to give the Ordinators credit for that. We don’t get along but I’ve always had to admire their tenacity. Kind of like an attack dog.” Nevano said. For some reason Lady instantly came to mind. He swore that dog was going to kill him one day by licking him to death. Or smothering him while she sat on his chest. Stupid dog. “But more than that. Who leads the Ordinators? What are their numbers? Exactly WHAT are they devoted to now that the Tribunal is no more? I need a bit more so I know how to tailor our help to them to best gain their favor. Ordinators are one of those picky factions that you have to play it carefully. One wrong move and you’ve turned them off for good.”

“They didn’t really have rank before but they reorganized themselves. The head of the Ordinators calls himself the Autarch.” Veleth said. “His name is….vith, what is his name…Andas, Autarch Andas. I can’t remember his first name. As to what they’ve devoted themselves to, I have no idea. I think that’s why there’s such friction between them and everyone else. They keep their numbers fairly bolstered but that’s mostly due to them being such a familiar face that they aren’t concerned with recruit numbers.”

“Anything to tell about this…Auatra…Autrad…forget it, Andas?” Nevano frowned as he tripped over the strange word. 

“Nothing.” Veleth said. “Thinking about it now, I don’t know anyone that has seen the man in years.”

“If that doesn’t scream out something is wrong, I don’t know what does.” Nevano said dryly. 

“I’m not certain I’m completely accurate on this but after Mournhold fell, Andas made sure the survivors were taken care of before mounting a counter-assault against the Argonians. It took a few years of intense fighting but they eventually drove the Argonians off and reclaimed the ruined remains of the city. They started to rebuild but as they got deeper in Andas was seen less and less until he withdrew from the public completely.”

“Ok, that’s not the few years you were indicating earlier.” Nevano said. “That was before you were BORN. By a good handful of years, I might add. That is more a little concerning. The…whatever he calls himself has been missing for nearly a century and a half, the Ordinators themselves have suddenly holed up in the ruins of a city AND there’s mysterious fighting going on that no one can explain.” Nevano sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that we are walking into something far worse than anyone expected?”

“It’s going to get strange…”

“What?”

“That was what my father said to me right before we left.” Veleth said. “He told me to just accept anything strange because it was only going to get worse. Also that you had a tendency to sneak off once everyone else fell asleep. His stories weren’t exaggerated, were they?”

“Not at all.” Nevano smirked. “But yes, things will get strange. But all the good stories are strange with strange enemies who do strange things. So I have to resort to strange things to combat it. Just keep in mind that your father helped contribute to the strangeness on multiple occasions.”

Veleth shook his head as he stood up. “I’m going to lose my sanity before this is over with and end up as strange as you both. Let’s go. We still got a long way before we even get to Kogo.”

“As Sheogorath would say: sanity is overrated.” Nevano smirked as he got up and followed the taller mer. “Though something tells me that after all this, a dragon popping out of the time stream seeking to destroy the earth will seem normal in comparison.”

XxXxXx

4E 201, 12th Hearthfire – Safepoint Kogo, Morrowind

Nevano carefully considered the rather sizeable city below him. After several days of rough traveling through mountainous terrain they had finally come upon Safepoint Kogo, only Nevano didn’t remember it quite the same. He remembered it as the tiny riverside town of Omaynin, a place that about as much significance as Riverwood in Skyrim or Border Watch in Cyrodiil. Originally it had nestled itself comfortably in the valley made by the river but over the years its population had dwindled to just a few stubborn old souls who refused to see the town wither and die. Then the Argonians had invaded and Omaynin was rediscovered as being the perfect gateway town to the western arm of Morrowind and the newly minted capital city. The last time Nevano had seen it the town had been a hodgepodge of haphazard buildings and a lot of irritable soldiers trying to find a decent place to sleep without a sharp rock driving into their backsides. Now it was far more permanent, a very proud city, with a mostly military population of course but there was a strong civilian population that was happy enough to work for the soldiers in exchange for the strong sense of security. 

“Different?” Veleth brought him out of his musings.

“Very much so. It reminds me a lot of Balmora.” Nevano sighed. “In more ways than one though the first thing that comes to mind is there’s no way to pass by Balmora unseen without climbing a mountain and even then there was that Imperial fort sitting on one mountain. There’s no way we can sneak around this place. We’re going to have to go through.”

“There’s enough soldiers down there that no one is going to readily notice us.” Veleth said. “Not to mention I can blend in as one of them.”

“Let’s get a story straight, just in case.” Nevano winced, remembering their first night before he threw a Thalmor out of the window. “To make it easy on you, let’s just reprise your role as commander being recalled to General Relas. I know we aren’t following along with the rotations since that’s not for another…what, three months? But it was for…here, you try. Why would an officer such as yourself be called around outside of the rotations?”

“That happens all the time.” Veleth said. “Someone gets killed and needs to be replaced, a major mission is being mounted and more men are needed, the list goes on.”

“Great. Pick one of those, stick with it.” Nevano breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe Veleth could learn to lie convincingly. “Think I can pass for a scout?”

“More or less.” Veleth said after a moments consideration. “Scouts are generally considered a fairly odd bunch to begin with so, once again, no one should question you much. As long as no one sees Truefire and Hopesflame that is. Let’s go before someone notices us up here. I’d rather not get turned into pincushion by over-cautious archers.”

At first walking through the streets that were thick with soldiers made Nevano was a nervous wreck. There were too many people crowding around for Nevano to keep track of everyone, to see who was looking at them suspiciously, to see who might make their day difficult. He felt incredibly exposed and that sensation never sat well with him. In stark contrast, Veleth looked just as calm and in control as he had patrolling Raven Rock. Nevano couldn’t help but admire his composure and tried to take a cue from him as he tried to force his rebellious mind to relax. Fortunately, the city was far longer east to west than it was north to south and within a few hours they came within sight of the southern gate. Nevano wanted to feel relieved but something was making him feel like he was about to throw up butterflies. In instances like this, he hated being proved right. 

“Hey, you two. Aren’t you two supposed to be patrolling the south wall?” Nevano twitched as a mer by the gate called out to them, a suspicious frown on his face. Nevano felt his heart skip a few beats as the soldier came over to them. He could tell he was an officer of some sort but he had never fully memorized the rank markings. He started to try to think of a story to spin that wouldn’t land them in trouble if he got the ranking wrong but, to his great surprise, Veleth beat him to it. 

“Excuse me?” Veleth growled, his voice hard. Nevano felt his blood turn to ice and it had nothing to do with the thought of Veleth taking over. He had irritated Veleth before, he had exasperated him, embarrassed him, annoyed him, bewildered him and otherwise harassed him but he had never before heard him turn on the raw anger and by Mephala’s twisted webs it scared him to death. Like his father, the initial growl held the same ominous warning of the first roll of thunder from a storm. Everything after that was only going to increase in force. He took a small step back behind Veleth, not wanting to be in the line of fire. 

“I uh…” That thunderbolt of anger certainly made the poor kid addressing them slam to a rough halt. 

“Last I checked, a soldier as low in rank as you did NOT give orders to a commander!” Veleth barked. “Stand at attention. What’s your name and your unit?”

Nevano kept his face blank but it was hard. He really wanted to laugh at the exaltation that Veleth was actually lying so convincingly and also at the horrified look on the poor soldier’s face as he stammered out the required information. Veleth laid into him a bit more before finally, after thoroughly cowing the soldier, letting him off the hook. 

“Consider this a warning and count yourself lucky I’m in a good enough mood to let this slide. Back to your post.” 

“Not bad, Bull.” Nevano said, finally allowing himself to relax as the poor kid scuttled off as fast as he could. “You got even me to stand up straight on that one.”

“That wasn’t lying so much as repeating the same thing I’ve been barking for decades.” Veleth said dismissively, resuming their earlier path out the gate. 

“It was still a lie.” Nevano pointed out, jogging a bit to keep up with Veleth’s longer, irritated strides. “A lie on a subject you were familiar and comfortable with, but still a convincing lie nonetheless as you have no power of authority here.”

Veleth sighed. “I just hate it. I can’t stand the hiding and sneaking around. To me, it’s cowardly.”

“Yes, it can be.” Nevano conceded. “It can be the most selfish thing ever. However, this time, we are using it to try to free Morrowind. Try to think of it as just another tool at our disposal.” 

“Tools are inanimate objects that are harmless until held otherwise.” Veleth grunted. “But all this brings up something slightly off topic that I’ve been wondering about for a long time: how did the Argonians manage to catch everyone off guard? Mournhold was a major city, with some of the most important mer in our entire society living there. How did no one see it coming?”

“I’ve been wondering that for a while too.” Nevano frowned. “Mournhold had one of the most superb spy networks I had ever seen. They managed to lure me into the city without me ever once realizing it and then passing it off as an “oops, didn’t mean it” once the truth came out. Helseth and Barenziah themselves were probably the most cunning and conniving Dunmer to ever grace Morrowind’s history. I heard rumors that the Thalmor were key in encouraging the Argonians to invade but…”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, Jorun is apparently the visible front of a spy network, THAT I didn’t see coming by the way, that has gotten their fingers in everything but I’m thinking they are up against an enemy spy who is just as good, if not better, than they are, someone who is able to bypass even Jorun’s paranoid gut.” Nevano kicked a pebble and watched it bounce down the road. “Whatever the case is, we need to be extremely careful about what we say to who.”

“More lies and hiding.”

“If there’s one thing the Tribunal taught me it’s that even those closest to you can betray you.” Nevano felt a pang coming from Nerevar. “I only trust four people explicitly. Never have more than five. ”

Veleth gave him a strange look and he knew that his voice had deepened a note or two. That would be Nerevar’s influence. Now that he thought on it, Veleth hadn’t been properly introduced to Nerevar’s presence in him. When Nerevar had helped get him back to Raven Rock, he had dropped Nevano outside the city and all his influence had bled out before anyone knew the difference. There was no time to conduct proper introductions just yet but he made a mental note that he needed to do that soon before something happened that would cause Nerevar to take over and catch Veleth off-guard. Or maybe he would just let Veleth find out the hilarious way. However, Veleth decided to drop the subject and they made it through Kogo without any further incidents. 

“We can avoid the rest of the Safepoints easily enough.” Veleth changed the subject as the city disappearing as the river valley made a sharp turn east. “This valley eventually climbs up into flatter terrain. If we can stay north of the river we can avoid Isra easily enough, they have very lax patrols to the north, then we can cut south before we get to Stros. I know how to avoid Stros easily enough, I know all the patrol routes. Then we head straight to Mournhold from there.”

“You are the better tracker, Bull.” Nevano said. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

“Even after all your years of traveling around?” There was a teasing note in Veleth’s voice that made Nevano grin.

“My last wandering nearly got me beheaded before running from an angry dragon and Truefire and Hopesflame fell into Thalmor hands. I think I trust your nose better than mine at this point.”

XxXxXx

4E 201, 16th Hearthfire – west of Mournhold, Morrowind

As they got closer to Mournhold and Adrusa, the sky became steadily darker. At first Nevano thought it was simply gearing up to rain but the smell on the wind wasn’t quite right. Instead of the sweet scent of water on the wind, a heavier, sickly smell that he couldn’t quite place made the hair on his neck stand on end. A quick glance at Veleth told him that he noticed as well; his jaw was clenched and one shoulder was dropped ever so slightly to give him faster access to his weapon. They trudged on, decidedly more cautious, the black clouds continuing to billow up overhead. 

“Can’t even blame this on Almalexia going insane this time.” Nevano muttered an hour later as they got to the familiar lands around Mournhold, a cold wind hitting him in the face. This area of Morrowind was normally hot and humid, especially this time of year at the tail end of summer. Even during bad storms the wind wouldn’t be this cold. Veleth’s scowl deepened but he refrained from saying anything. He didn’t need to though. That scowl said more than words could. Then, as they crested a hill, something above the trees caught Nevano’s attention. 

“You know, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to Mournhold.” Nevano stopped abruptly, his eyes wide. “But even I know that THAT is not supposed to be there.”

“That” was a column of sickly green light that swirled up into the sky like a beacon. Nevano couldn’t be completely certain but it looked to be coming from the direction of Mournhold. 

“What in Azura’s name IS that?” Veleth gaped. “Nothing like this was in any report…”

“It could have just happened and we’re ahead of any report.” Nevano pointed out. “I mean, LOOK at that thing. I can tell you that my first thought on seeing that is not going to be ‘Quick! Send a report!’. It’s going to be ‘Which daedra did I piss off?’.”

“Should be the second thought then because this…” Veleth trailed off. 

“Reminds me of the light you see from summonings but no summon is THAT big.” Nevano chewed on a nail. “I hope not at least. If it is, I don’t think we’re going to have Martin around to turn into the avatar of Akatosh again.”

“Did you see that?”

“No, I had left for Morrowind a week before the emperor was assassinated. I spent that period of time closing gates on mainland Morrowind. I never made it back to Vvardenfell like I wanted to.” Nevano said. “However, I knew the Hero of Kvatch. She had been in the Fighters Guild. She was this tiny little scrappy fighter, smaller than me. Not sure how she ended up in jail. She would get mad every time I asked so I always figured she was falsely accused like I was. I miss her, she was pretty fun to go on contracts with.”

“Hold that thought because I’m curious and I want to hear more but…something is out there.”

“Where?” Nevano instantly went on high alert, pricking his ears. No matter how hard he tried, even his sharp ears couldn’t pick up anything. Still, he trusted Veleth’s instincts; if he said something was out there, then there was something there. 

“It’s coming towards us. In the trees, right in front of us.” Veleth said. “Wait…are those Ordinators? High Ordinators?”

Nevano resisted the urge to jump when ghostly pale armor seemed to materialize from the trees. He felt Truefire and Hopesflame flare briefly at his hips and he whole-heartedly agreed with them. Something wasn’t quite right with the five figures before them. 

“Hai, Ordinators.” Veleth greeted them, crossing his empty fists over his chest in a gesture of neutrality. “We are making our way to Mournhold when we saw that light coming from the city. Is everything ok?”

None of the Ordinators answered. A prickle of alarm tickled the back of his mind from Nerevar’s corner. While Nevano appreciated the concern, he didn’t need Nerevar to tell him something wasn’t right. It was pretty obvious on its own. The grim iconic masks made it impossible to see the Ordinators’ facial expressions but what Nevano could see of their eyes through the slits in their mask were just as devoid of any expression as the mask itself. 

“Veleth…” He said slowly, his hands tightening on the hilts of his swords. A flicker of flame ran along both blades. 

“You will not approach the city of Mournhold.” One of the Ordinators finally said. His voice wasn’t quite right. It was forced and airy, as if he was trying to shout through a rough wind. Nevano recognized it instantly. He heard it often when Nerevar decided to speak through him. It was a voice trying to force its way from one plane of existence to another. “The King of Morrowind shall rein eternal!”

“Veleth, these Ordinators aren’t alive anymore!” Nevano snapped out his already blazing swords. 

“None shall challenge the king and live!” Then all hell broke loose as the Ordinators charged in.

Nevano was at a distinct disadvantage in this fight, other than being a living, breathing creature against several undead. Besides being heavily armored, Ordinators were heavily armed with some of the nastiest weapons in Tamriel. In this case, all of them were equipped with polearms, designed to slash as well as stab while keeping an opponent at a fair distance. For Nevano, who had to get close, it was a big problem. Compounding the problem was these were High Ordinators. They made the regular Ordinators look like kittens and any regular Ordinator could make anyone’s day go real bad, real quick. 

“Vith!” Nevano cursed as he barely managed to deflect a polearm. He wouldn’t be able to stop many more these blows. Even throwing his whole weight behind Truefire and Hopesflame crossed in an X he was still pushed back several inches before the polearm came to stop. He was either going to have to get creative or get sliced in half by a powerful strike. 

Shifting his feet slightly, Nevano waited for the next swing. When it came, he jumped up and landed on top of the blade. It was a stupid move, one that left a thousand admonishments ringing in his mind. He could even hear Nerevar tsk’ing at him. 

“Shut UP!” he roared mentally. “If you never made a stupid move, you wouldn’t have ended up getting killed on the side of a mountain!” 

That instantly silenced all noise in his head. 

Meanwhile, he found that his risky move had paid off. His weight had effectively stopped the polearm, burying the blade in dirt, buying him a few precious seconds to allow him to rush in for the one weak point in that armor: the gap at the neck between the helmet and the cuirass. Truefire hissed and burned as congealed ichor bubbled out of the furious wound. The pole weapon Nevano was balancing on wavered and dropped to the ground, Nevano’s weight causing it to dig it’s own grave in the soft dirt. Slowly the Ordinator sank to the ground. 

Nevano couldn’t pat himself on the back just yet. He had managed to kill only one Ordinator. Veleth had already downed two in the meantime, heavy weapons colliding in an titanic battle where Nevano would swear that every weapon clash made his teeth rattle. Currently he was engaged with a third and was holding his own. The final Ordinator was coming at Nevano. As he prepared himself to take care of this final foe, more pale forms in the trees caught his eye. His heart stopped. It wasn’t another group of five. It was TEN. There was no way they could survive this. It didn’t matter how good they both were, they simply couldn’t take on thirteen foes as powerful as these undead were at once, especially with only one of them being able to face these Ordinators on even ground. 

Nevano opened his mouth to call out a warning to Veleth, to tell him to just drop and run because that was the only way they had even a sliver of a chance of survival, but the flat side of polearm caught him in the side and knocked him sideways into a tree. 

“Nevano!” Veleth shouted, moving so he could keep them at bay while Nevano struggled to his feet.

“Run, kid.” Nevano sputtered, trying to regain his breath. “Just run!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s too many.” Veleth tightened his grip on his weapon. “Running isn’t an option anymore.”

“Vith…” Nevano breathed, realizing that a solid ring of pale armor holding a forest of bristling weapons surrounded them. Well, he knew one day his luck would come to a horrific and jarring end but his biggest regret was that it happened with Veleth there. He had come along to keep the kid safe…and now they both were going die. Rather messily too. Hopefully Jorun and Drelasa would forgive him. He glanced over at Veleth. The Bull was glaring at the undead around him, defiant to the end. Nevano didn’t know which deity he favored, but he could see Boethia approving of his actions. Good thing too, since Mephala had obviously rejected this mer completely. Then Nevano blinked. Veleth’s amulet had fallen out from beneath his cuirass…and it was glowing. 

“What...is…?” 

Nevano couldn’t tell if Veleth had sputtered that out or if he had. It didn’t matter really. They were both thinking it. If the Ordinators had been alive, they would have been thinking that as well. The glow was growing into a bright light, so intense that Nevano wanted to close his eyes and look away but he couldn’t. Finally the glowing ball exploded outwards, light flying everywhere as if a thousand lit fire arrows had been fired off at once. Veleth fell back from the force and Nevano found himself pinned by heavy armor to the ground. That actually proved to be beneficial as magic energy flew all around him. Veleth, as the unwitting caster and wearing heavy armor, was protected from the wild barrage. Nevano curled into a ball, using the much larger mer as a shield. The howling went on for an interminable time until sudden silence reigned through the woods. 

Slowly the heavy weight above Nevano lifted as Veleth was able to sit up. Nevano uncurled when he could finally move again and looked up. “You ok, Bull?” 

“Yeah.”

Nevano looked around. There was no trace of the Ordinators, aside from the ones that they had already killed. He glanced over at Veleth. “Didn’t realize you had a turn undead enchantment on that necklace.”

“Neither did I.” Veleth said, slowly getting to his feet. “I’ve had this necklace for seventy years and it has never once given any indication it had an enchantment on it.”

“You know what, don’t question it.” Nevano shook his head. “If it chose now to reveal that it can turn the undead, I’m not going to complain. Great timing on the grand reveal. Waiting seventy years to drive off thirteen undead Ordinators is just fine in my book.”

As he lay there trying to recover a bit, Nevano felt a sullen corner of his mind. Was…was Nerevar pouting? He frowned, probing at it but wince when he got the equivalent of a door slammed in his face. He sighed as he remembered his earlier words. He had some apologizing to do. 

“Everything alright?”

“I said a few nasty things earlier and now Nerevar is upset.” Nevano sighed. “Do you know how weird it is to have one part of your mind pouting while the rest is still trying to make sense of what just happened? Not a comfortable situation.”

“I’ve heard you mention him more than once but…” Veleth stared. “Wait. Nerevar…is in your head?”

“Yes. I AM Nerevar reincarnated, remember? That part wasn’t just make the story more interesting.” Nevano explained. “I’m still Nevano, but I’m also Nerevar. More Nevano than Nerevar because this is MY time and not Nerevar’s, he IS dead after all, but he still makes his presence known every now and then. Two beings in one: Nerevarine. Huh, I just realized my name sounds like Nerevar. Maybe that was what caught the emperor’s attention in the first place and made him decide to toss me off to Morrowind in the first place…”

“That’s…” Veleth stopped and made a face that was a combination of incredulous and impressed. “You have a dead Chimeri general living in your head…”

“Jorun told you this would get strange, yes?” Nevano smiled. “Welcome to it. Sheogorath would be proud.” Then he turned inward again, focusing on the negative energy in the far corner of his mind. “I’m sorry, Nerevar. You were trying to help and we both know that I don’t think what happened to you was because of anything stupid on your part. Betrayal is one of the hardest things to happen, especially from those so close…and often it’s found far too late.” He felt Nerevar ease up on the pout, slightly mollified. “Besides, you’ll forgive me. You haven’t had this much fun in millennia.” Nevano snickered as he received the mental equivalent of a slap upside the head. “He forgave me.” He explained to his bewildered friend. 

“Your strange mental roommate situation aside.” Veleth rubbed at his forehead. “Care to take a guess why we were just attacked by a group of UNDEAD Ordinators blathering on about the king?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Nevano shrugged.

Veleth took a look at the pile of bodies and shuddered. 

“Relax, I don’t think they’re going to get up again…I hope.”

“They better stay down…” Veleth muttered, giving the bodies a look like he wanted to cut the heads off JUST to be sure they were dead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flinch at anything before.” Nevano remarked. “A damn snake dragon landed in front of you and you didn’t flinch, you didn’t hesitate in the slightest about running into a tower full of Morag Tong assassins and you got run through the kidney and brushed it off but a few fully dead undead are making you wince?” 

“Shut up.” Veleth groused. “I just happen to agree with Meridia’s philosophies.”

“No wonder you got your arse kicked by those ash spawn.” Nevano snickered. 

“Keep it up and I’ll put a rat in your bedroll.”

“You wouldn’t DARE.”

“To take a page from your book…I gave up my entire career to go play hero with the Nerevarine. There’s not much I won’t dare do at this point.”

“You…I’m not sure if I’m proud that you’re sassing me back or if I’m annoyed that you’re using my own words against me!” 

“You forget that JORUN is my father.” Veleth grumbled. “I know how to sass back. But for gods’ sake quit getting off topic! We were attacked by undead Ordinators. Undead. Ordinators. Ordinators don’t just rise from the dead on a whim, SOMEONE raised them up. And another thing, it takes a LOT to kill ONE Ordinator. Who killed this many and then RAISED THEM UP AGAIN?”

Nevano went over and nudged one of them until his helmet finally rolled off. Veleth winced and took a step back. Nevano didn’t blame him one bit. The Ordinator’s skin was mottled from the blood congealing in his veins and blackened, rotting flesh pulled away from bone by the force of the helmet pulling on it. The smell alone was enough to make a dragon whimper. 

“We need to hurry.” Nevano looked back up at the eerie green light. “This Ordinator has been dead a long time before someone raised him up again. I have no idea why we were attacked and I have no idea WHY there was a group of very dead undead Ordinators running around but the reason can’t be good. I think instead of Mournhold, we should go to Adrusa first. Something is obviously going on with the Ordinators and this was too close a call for us to risk again. Maybe the Redoran soldiers can shed some light on this situation…and not that awful green light.”

Veleth gave him a pained look at the bad pun. 

Nevano laughed. It was his birthday. He was allowed to make horrible jokes and get away with it. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 17th Hearthfire – Safepoint Adrusa, Morrowind

It really wasn’t that far from Mournhold to Safepoint Adrusa but after that attack, the two mer had slowed down, moving with far more caution than speed. The perpetual dark clouds overhead made for horrible visibility in the woods, not allowing them to see farther than a few trees ahead. It made both of them tense, fully expecting pale armor to suddenly materialize like it had before. It was one of the most nerve-wracking journeys Nevano could remember, ranking up near trekking around Red Mountain. Finally the lights of Safepoint Adrusa came into sight…along with sounds of a fight. Nevano exchanged a look with Veleth and they broke into a run. 

Several dozen Ordinators were fighting with Redoran soldiers at the gates of Adrusa and, judging by the smell of rotting flesh, they were just as undead as the ones Nevano and Veleth had run across the day before. 

“Think you can get that amulet to work again?” Nevano asked as he pulled Bonebiter free. He wasn’t about to try with cross weapons with those Ordinators again. In this case, he was perfectly happy letting his much bigger friend in the heavy armor and big weapon run in first while he kept his distance. Bonebiter was more than up for the job and this time he had a clear line of sight without trees in his way. 

“I’m still not sure how I got it to work the first time!” Veleth grunted. “But I can try.”

Nevano pulled out an arrow and jumped up on a log and fired it off, grinning in satisfaction as it punched clean through the Indoril armor and knocked the Ordinator clean off his feet. The undead mer didn’t get back up again. Finally Nevano felt like he was back in his element. In front of him, Veleth tore into the undead ranks with a ferocity that only came from someone determined to overcome a deep-rooted fear. In this case, it was an undead phobia. Nevano sent an arrow over Veleth’s shoulder, nailing his current target in the face.

“Get your own mark!” Veleth bellowed. Nevano smirked. 

The soldiers, the living ones, were greatly relieved for the help once they realized that Nevano and Veleth weren’t dead. One fighter in particular caught Nevano’s attention. In stark contrast to the strict fighting style of the other Redoran soldiers, he was….brutal. There was no other way to put it. His style was undeniably Ashlander: fast, hard and to the point. He carried a short sword in one hand and a hand axe in the other. Nevano watched with great interest as he used the axe to wrench the head of an Ordinator to one side and slice open the jugular vein in the neck and left his foe to slump to the ground, the blood draining from the nearly decapitated body. It was a move heavily favored by Ashlander hunters to show off their stealth and efficiency in taking down prey. Yet however brutal he was, there was a certain grace to it that made so that Nevano wanted to keep watching him like someone would want to watch a dancer. However he didn’t have that luxury; more Ordinators were joining the fight. Judging by the look of despair on some of the soldiers’ faces, it was time to end this fight. 

“Veleth, use the amulet!” Nevano shouted. “These soldiers are getting tired. And I’m running out of arrows!”

Veleth nodded and stepped back, allowing Nevano a clearer line of sight to keep the Ordinators back while he activated his amulet. It wasn’t long before tendrils of light shot out and wove through the Ordinator ranks. The Ordinators flinched back and dropped their weapons. The ones in the back fled back into the woods but the Redoran soldiers, newly invigorated at the sight of their opponents finally wavering, cut down the rest in short order. 

“Ok, so, we’re stocking up on soul gems to keep that necklace of yours charged up.” Nevano raised an eyebrow at Veleth. “That’s about the only thing that works. But really, more undead Ordinator attacks?” 

“This is the fourth time in as many days.” Nevano looked up to see the gruffest looking mer he had ever seen striding towards them, looking very much like he needed to kill another dozen opponents before his mood settled into something approachable. He even made Veleth look like a puppy in comparison. An eye patch covered his left eye and his left hand was missing a few fingers. “Huh, Veleth, right? Didn’t know you finally got reassigned. Relas sent you?”

Nevano sent a swift kick to Veleth’s ankle to remind him to say something convincing. 

“General Garil, General Relas sends his regards.” Veleth said, shooting Nevano a look that promised a swift punch to the jaw if he tried to kick him again. “We have news we need to discuss.”

“Right. Relas always loved the secrety stuff. Surprised he sent you though.” Garil turned to address his men. “Toss the bodies with the others. Churl! Grab a group and make sure there isn’t another wave rising up from the ground. Set fire to the whole damn forest if you have to. The rest of you, normal patrol routine but keep on alert. Those numbers are growing and I don’t want today to be the day we’re caught unprepared by a second wave. You two follow me.”

They both followed him through the Safepoint. As they went further in, Nevano was struck by the noticeable absence of civilians. All the Safepoints had grown into full-fledged towns, most of the civilian population made up of those who had fled the southern portion of the province, but none of them were out and about right now. Instead, tense and suspicious soldiers were hurrying about, many with weapons bared. Nevano could see the fatigue on the faces of every soldier that ran by, evidence of a prolonged battle and fear that refused no matter how many foes they killed. Finally Garil led them into a building that Nevano recognized as a war room, a massive map pinned to table in the center of the room by daggers in each corner. Various other small maps littered the walls and shelves but Nevano didn’t pay attention to those. He was most concerned with the big red X that had been crossed through Mournhold. 

“Alright so what is this about?” Garil said, his one eye pinning them down with a red glare.

Without preamble, Nevano pulled off his lenses.

“Well I’ll be the bastard son of Malacath.” Garil crossed his arms. “Thought you were long gone.”

“I have several sarcastic remarks I can make in response to that but I’m going to hold on to those because I don’t have many in reserve.” Nevano said. “Besides, we don’t have time for that. So I’m going to take a cue from Bull here and be blunt as a brick. I might have been gone but now I’m back. I’m going to drive out the Thalmor and I’m here to get the Ordinators in on it but that might be a little hard seeing as how every one I’ve met so far is no longer ALIVE. Tell me what’s going on and we might be able to help each other out.”

“Refreshingly blunt. I like that.” Garil gave a grim smile. “So you came back from the great beyond to take care of our Thalmor problem, eh? Now THAT is something I can get behind instead of chasing after ghosts at the behest of some councilor with a finger up their arse! Did Relas send you two or are you doing this on your own.”

“For right now, let’s just say we’re working on our own.” Nevano said. “General Relas has no idea Veleth is even back on the mainland and we need it to stay that way.”

“Alright, alright, keep your secrety stuff. I don’t get paid to play spy, I get paid to put bodies in the ground, though I prefer them alive first rather than my job already done halfway for me!” The gruff general said. “As to the Ordinators…that might be far easier said than done.”

“What do you mean by ‘easier said than done’?” Nevano asked. “It gets worse than an undead horde of Ordinators?” 

“Look, I’ve been general of this place since it’s founding.” Garil said. “I knew Andas, knew him very well. He was an honorable mer, absolutely. After he reclaimed Mournhold, we worked together to help rebuild the city. The Argonians absolutely trashed the place. Every building was ruined, every wall had holes in it…it was like they were trying to erase us from the face of the planet brick by brick and they almost succeeded. Still, things were going fine for the first year or so. We got a lot cleared out and had finally gotten to the palace in the center of the city. That’s when things got…weird.”

“Weird?”

“Quit interrupting.” Nevano held up his hands and shot a swift kick in Veleth’s direction when he smirked at him. “Yes, weird. Andas refused to let any of my soldiers into the palace and he never told me why. At first I just figured it was some sort of hallowed ground to them, much like how they got a little weird over Almalexia’s old temple in the north of the city, so I just told my men to stick to clearing out Godsreach, the bazaar and Brindisi Dorom and leave the Ordinators to whatever sacred hocus-pocus ceremony they wanted to hold. I just wanted to get the city cleared because having Mournhold up and standing again along with Adrusa could very well mean we could start to build up the strength needed to finally push those scaly n’wahs back across the border where they belong once and for all. Obviously, that still hasn’t happened.”

Nevano frowned but after his last warning he held his tongue. 

“That was when Andas just up and disappeared.” Garil continued, stabbing at Mournhold on the map with his remaining left fingers. “All my inquiries to his whereabouts were completely stonewalled and we still weren’t allowed near the palace. I sent multiple reports on that and was told each time to stand down so my hands were tied. I had to let the whole thing drop. Wasn’t happy about it but orders are orders. Things continued in that vein, a little strained, until, out of the blue, we were completely ejected out of the city and the next thing I know, there’s that stupid light reaching up into the sky, a barrier around the whole damn city and we’re being besieged by a bunch of damn Ordinator zombies!”

“You’re right.” Nevano murmured. “Easier said than done.”

“I don’t even know where to start to help you out with this.” The irritated general threw his hands up. 

Nevano twisted his jaw as he pondered over what the general said. So the problems started when they started to uncover the palace BUT all the Ordinators had been alive then. Still, it didn’t make sense. Many of the Ordinators Nevano had seen at the gate were…a little ripe, much like the ones he and Veleth had encountered in the woods outside Mournhold. And a barrier around the city? Dead mer don’t raise barriers. What could be so powerful as to not only kill and raise Ordinators but also raise a barrier a whole city as large as that? 

“If I can get that barrier down, can I count on your help in keeping whatever comes out of that city distracted while I try to get into the city to see what’s going on?” Nevano asked, not fully expecting a positive reply but he wanted to know what to expect.

“I’m not going to sacrifice every man here.” Garil said flatly.

“I didn’t ask that.” 

Garil sighed. “If it’s something we can actually attack…yes. But you need to be completely certain what’s going to happen AND have a decent enough plan or else you’re on your own.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’ll want to talk to the Churl. I just sent him to make sure we don’t have any more surprises coming from the woods but I’ll send him in once he gets back. He’s my right hand man and has more of an idea what’s going on out there than I do.” Garil sighed in frustration as he stood up. “I got a Safepoint to run. Good luck to you both.”

Nevano watched the aggravated general leave and raised an eyebrow at Veleth “The Churl?”

“Heard of him, never met him personally.” Veleth shrugged. “Remember that warrior we saw earlier? The one with the axe and dagger? That was him.”

“What kind of nickname is Churl?” Nevano wondered out loud. “I mean, you’re Bull because you are as stubborn as one and Azura knows I live up to just about every nickname ever given to me but Churl?”

“Because he fights like a daedra from Oblivion.” Veleth said as he looked over a map of the surrounding area on the table. “He’s supposed to be a shoe-in for the next general of Adrusa should Garil ever step down or get killed…except no one has ever seen his face. Tends to breed distrust.”

“Mystery mask, eh? Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Because you open your mouth too much.” Veleth said dryly. “Renders it a moot point.”

“Careful there, Bull, you are toeing the line of developing an actual sense of humor.”

“It’s an occupational hazard at this point.” Veleth shook his head. “I’m glad I’ve had years of dealing with the twins before dealing with you or I would have lost my mind by now.”

Before Nevano could reply the door opened and the warrior in question walked in, still splattered with the dark, congealed ichor of the undead. 

Before any sort of greeting could pass between then, the Churl nodded at the two soldiers who stood at attention at the doorway. “Leave us.” Nevano frowned. The words were muffled, making it impossible to tell anything about the mer. Actually, everything about him was muffled and hidden. Unlike other Redoran soldiers, the Churl wore light armor, which made sense seeing as how he fought with a hand axe and a dagger, but the armor was strangely bulky, once again muffling every defining feature on him until he was just barely humanoid shaped. It just struck Nevano was extremely strange. Even with heavy armor sets there was a certain distinction between male and female wearers but in this instance there were more defining features on a mannequin. He could see what Veleth had meant about breeding distrust. 

“I have been eagerly awaiting the day I could meet you both for a very long time. I just didn’t expect it to be at the same time.” The Churl said in that garbled monotone voice, “The stubborn Bull of Stros and the legendary Nerevarine. Not a combination anyone expected…but undeniably an effective one.”

“The unexpected often produces the biggest results.” Nevano responded slowly, having a hard time settling the uneasy pit in his stomach. It wasn’t a bad feeling necessarily, nothing to make the swords at his hips flare up, but more like he was waiting for the plot twist. Except he had a feeling that that twist wasn’t going to be nearly as impressive for him as it would be for everyone else. 

“The biggest, yes, but the best?”

“You said it so yourself; stubborn and legendary. Too stubborn to quit and too legendary to fail.” Nevano said a little more sarcastic than absolutely necessary. “It’s working so well I can see the council forging medals for us already.”

“From sarcastic to cynical in a few short words.”

“I personally don’t care what the council does. I have a goal and I need the Ordinators to help achieve that goal.” Nevano said flatly. “Can you help us or not?”

The Churl didn’t reply right away. Instead, he began to unbuckle his armor, starting with the weapons belt, placing each piece with deliberate precision on the table between them. Nevano and Veleth exchanged a slightly uncomfortable look but before they could do anything else, the Churl began to speak. “A long time ago, I defied my father’s wishes and joined the Redoran Militia. My mother, Azura bless her, was rather unsurprised and aided in my endeavors, even convincing my father to support me as well. She knew that I needed to do this, for more than one reason.” Gauntlets joined the weapon belt. Nevano noted the calluses on the fingers as something began to ring discordantly in his mind. He…recognized those fingers, as weird as that seemed. It did nothing to ease the discomfort in his belly. If anything, it grew worse. “The life they led was not the life I was suited for, despite my father’s many efforts to groom me otherwise. I had other objectives in mind and I was determined to accomplish them. Now here we are. I never expected to actually meet you. I thought that the opportunity was gone forever with the rumors of you going to Akavir. I must admit this is a pleasant surprise.”

“A lot of people thought that.” Nevano couldn’t help himself. He had to say something, anything, to break up the awkwardness that was building. By the way Veleth had picked up a glass jar on a shelf and was idly passing it between his hands, he was feeling the same thing. “The whole Akavir expedition was not true. It was a very well told rumor and it had the desired effect but it wasn’t true. I don’t like that kind of attention, never have.”

“I know.” Came the strange answer. “I know quite a bit about you.”

“Ok…” Nevano said slowly, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable by now and almost wishing that the Churl would just attack them already so he could have an excuse to out a stop this whole strange situation. 

Then the Churl removed his helmet and they got their first look at his true face. 

Glass shattered all over the floor. 

HE was actually a SHE. 

That was actually the second thing Nevano noticed. That in and of itself was a bit of a shock but not overly so. It wasn’t uncommon at all for women to be in the military so why she had chosen to hide that aspect of her identity was a bit of a curiosity. However, that was not what caused Nevano to feel his mind grind to a halt and his stomach feel like it had turned to ice. He could see why she chose to hide her face. It was so glaringly obvious and Nevano just couldn’t stop staring, mentally begging whatever power out there MIGHT take pity on him that it wasn’t true. He KNEW he recognized those fingers and now it was all so achingly clear WHY. 

“Nevano…” she started to say, her voice far more melodious and delicate now that the mask wasn’t there to muffle it. Nevano’s internal begging intensified as a rushing noise echoed deep within his ears. No, it wasn’t true. Azura, Mephala, Boethia, Dibella, Akatosh, Sheogorath, Sanguine, actually Sanguine most of all because he desperately needed a drink, SOME GOD stop her from saying the words he knew was coming. “My name is…” 

He didn’t catch the rest of what she said. The rushing had intensified to a roar and the ice in his stomach had traveled up to his head, encasing his entire being in a cold black prison. Darkness tugged at the edges of his vision and slowly misted over his eyes. 

He thudded to the floor, completely unconscious before he ever hit the ground. 

XxXxXx

A/N: First off, thank you all for all the kind words. It really means a lot. Y’all are simply amazing. It’s been…difficult. There’s nothing like a medical emergency that really shows the true nature of the people around you, how much mental, physical and emotional stress you can actually take without imploding and just how long the list of instructions are for your animals when you ask someone to watch them for a few days. Normally I love roller coasters but the emotional roller coaster is one ride I would give anything to get off of. 

I re-wrote King’s outline. Granted I make changes as I write as new ideas come to me and as I find new information when I dig through websites and the games themselves but I thought it was too simple, too cheesy, and would end far too quickly. That’s no longer a concern. At all. I have allowed all those little ideas I once thought were too outrageous to go free. Turns out, they aren’t too outrageous after all. Gunjar DID say he wanted Nevano to cause mayhem. Nevano will be able to fulfill that promise. 

Oh, ah, and I wrestled with the idea of just blurting out the secret to my newest character buuuuut what’s a good story without someone screaming in outrage as I make you wait the week or so it’ll take me to write out the next chapter? Love you dears!


	29. The Lady and The Rogue

Chapter 28

The Lady and The Rogue

XxXxXx

4E 79, 28th Rain’s Hand – Necrom, Morrowind

Necrom was not a city that Nevano ever intended to find himself in. It was a hugely grand city, with tall white towers that reflected the light of both the sun and the moon, thick walls that had scared murals carved onto every available surface and statues that reflected the city’s celebration of both life and death. There was nothing wrong with the city per say. In fact, it was a lively city, a port city, filled with people from all over Tamriel. 

Nevano could barely stand being near it, let alone walking its streets. 

Thanks to Nerevar’s soul in him, he was a bit more sensitive to the souls of the dead and this city had just as many spirits walking the streets as living bodies. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them, an icy curtain that splashed against his body like a cold bath whenever one would brush against him. They were not malicious entities, those manifested themselves in the massive graveyard west of the city, but those who simply found comfort in the afterlife by keeping with the same routine they had kept while they were still alive. All the energy in the city made Nevano feel shaky and nauseated. 

Still, he couldn’t leave just yet. He had come all the way across Morrowind for one reason and he couldn’t leave until he at least caught a glimpse of Lady Hlervu, the lovely wife of a low level Redoran councilor. He hadn’t cared to learn the name of the councilor; the man himself was of little concern to Nevano. In fact, Nevano hated the mer. He could barely stomach seeing the councilor’s name written out. He had been completely heart-broken when he had seen the last name Hlervu following Sorosi’s name instead of Arobar, but in the end he could only blame himself. He had let her go and run away and she had been married off as planned. From what he heard it had been a grand celebration, taking place in Blacklight and lasting for a full day. He had also heard, from several tittering girls whispering behind their hands, that, though the bride had been the very picture of serene beauty, she had been crying before appearing to say her sacred vows. One more knife twisting in his heart. 

It wasn’t that hard to find the Hlervu manor. A few inquiries around town got him pointed in the right direction. It was, of course, located in the upscale part of town, where the large manors, well-guarded manors he noted, of the rich and influential were located. The guards at the gates of the manors gave Nevano a suspicious look but none stopped to question him. Tourists were not uncommon here and Nevano did nothing to make them think he was anything otherwise. 

The manor itself was nothing extraordinary. It was rather plain in comparison to the other opulent homes in the area, a rather obvious indicator that the owner was not as high in prestige as his neighbors. To Nevano, it was still an excessive display of wealth. Why have a house large enough to house twenty people when only two lived there full time? It made no sense to the mer who didn’t have any property in his name. 

The sun was setting when Nevano slipped around the back of the house, away from the suspicious gaze of the lone guard at the door and looked over the windows arranged neatly in front of him. He knew that bedrooms would be upstairs while the more formal rooms would all be downstairs. Carefully he climbed up the wall, thankful that this city was given to such extravagant carvings on the walls; it made climbing the walls almost as easy as walking on flat ground. He peered through a few windows until he found one that showed some promise. Lucky for him it wasn’t locked. 

Nevano leaped lightly through the window without a sound, stopping to let his eyes adjust to the rapidly diminishing light. Soon it would be pitch dark. He couldn’t pick out fine details but he could distinguish large objects in the room well enough to navigate. He frowned a little. This wasn’t the bedroom of a married couple, the bed seemed far too small and there was only one of everything instead of two. For a moment he thought he had gone to the wrong window. He glanced back at the window, considered trying another. 

Footsteps interrupted his thought process and he quickly flattened himself against the wall behind the door. 

His heart pounded against his ribs as the target of his whole quest walked in and locked the door behind her before leaning against the wood with a sigh. Something in that sigh, so tired and relieved to be alone, tugged at his heart. 

Slowly Sorosi pushed herself off the door and went about lighting the candles in the room. Once the light was strong enough Nevano could see that his previous assessment was correct; it was definitely a single occupant room, and not that of the husband. Everything was decidedly feminine. From the jewelry on the dresser to the colorful, flimsy clothing women loved so much thrown carelessly on the bed, all of it had a woman’s touch. There were no signs of any sort of male habitation. 

“Separate bedrooms?”

Sorosi gasped and spun around, a dagger suddenly in her hands. Nevano noted with a twinge of pride that it was the dagger he had given her so long ago. He had never been able to teach her to fight, it had proved impossible to get that noble mentality out of her, but he had at least been able to teach her to defend herself until real help could arrive. “Who’s there?” she demanded. 

Nevano stepped out from the shadows into the feeble light of the candles. Instantly the fear and anger drained from her face, replaced by a look Nevano couldn’t quite read, and the dagger wavered in her grasp. Nevano took the dagger from her unresisting hands and laid it on the dresser before holding her hands in his own. He noted they were shaking. 

“Nevano…” she said softly, tears welling in her eyes though her face remained unreadable. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

He hadn’t, had he? Neither blight nor age could harm him. That was what the prophecy said. Meanwhile everyone else around changed and Sorosi was no different. Lines crossed her once flawless face and a streak of grey shot through her raven hair. It hadn’t been that long, had it? Those couldn’t be the marks of age, she wasn’t old enough. They were…stress marks, Nevano realized with a pang. He reached out and ran his thumb down her face. She closed her eyes and for a moment her face relaxed and the lines faded away, allowing her beauty to radiate through so strongly that he gasped. 

“Why did you come back?” Her question took him by surprise. Well, not the question itself so much as it was the anger that wove itself through her words. “Why? Why, after all this time? Why did you choose NOW?”

Nevano stayed silent. 

“You have nothing to say? You left me! You BASTARD! I loved you and you left me without a WORD!” Anger gave way to a long restrained rage and despair, her words punctuated by pounding a clenched fist on his chest. He did nothing to stop her; he just let her scream and beat on him. He deserved all that and more. 

“Lady Hlervu? Is everything ok?” There was a timid knock on the door. “I heard shouting…”

“Everything is fine. Leave me!” Sorosi snapped.

They both waited a sufficient amount of time for the maid to leave before turning their full attention back to each other. The interruption had allowed Sorosi’s temper to settle a little. Her eyes were still sparking in anger but she didn’t hit him again.

“Well? What’s your excuse?”

“I’m a fool.” Nevano finally said. “I was a fool and I still am a fool.”

“That’s an understatement.” Sorosi said, the anger finally draining from her voice. “I should hate you. I should be calling for the guards to haul you out. There are so many things I SHOULD do but…I can’t bring myself to do it. I’ve missed you.”

“Sorosi I…I should have…I wanted to…”

“No, Nevano, what’s done is done.” Sorosi stopped him. “We are here now. I’m married and you…”

“Regret everyday I left. I hated myself for what I did.” Nevano said. “I’m alone and miserable and everything is so pointless without you. I can’t even stand being around another woman because I keep comparing her to you and they all are…nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Are you…happy that I’ve been lonely without you?”

“More like amused that you can’t find another woman attractive after me.”

Nevano gave a small smile. “My gorgeous witch. You cursed me.”

“Many times. Though that curse is MILD in comparison of what I SHOULD have done to you. Especially when I got married…you are lucky you can still consider yourself male.”

“About that separate bedroom thing…” Nevano coughed a little, changing the subject quickly before she decided to actually go through with her threats. That dagger he had given her was rather ornamental but was just as sharp as it was pretty and it was well within her reach. 

“And you say YOU were having romance problems.”

“I hate to ask without turning crude in front of a lady.”

“Like that has ever stopped you in the past. Nothing as bad as that though. He has me, rolls over and goes to sleep.” Sorosi sighed and spun from his grasp, removing her jewelry and setting it on the dresser. “You’ve spoiled me, my rogue. This man is…nice enough, I suppose. I’m treated well and he’s a wealthy man with many connections and…he’s everything my parents wanted for me. In short, he bores me.”

Nevano stepped up and removed Sorosi’s necklace for her, careful to only brush his fingers against her neck as he undid the clasp, noting the goose bumps that rose in the wake of his touch. Slowly a smirk worked its way across his face, warmth slowly bubbling up in the pit of his belly in a way he hadn’t felt in years. So her husband was so boring that they slept not only separate beds but in separate bedrooms? That was a practice that hadn’t been seen since the first era. Very archaic but very fortuitous for him. 

“You never answered me earlier.” Sorosi said, turning around to look him fully in the eyes. His stomach flip-flopped as her bright red eyes captured his and held him there more efficiently than any spell. “Why are you here?”

“Because I couldn’t go one more day without seeing you.” Nevano said honestly. “I tried to stay away but I figured out where you were and…well, I found myself here. I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away without seeing you again.”

“And if I called my husband’s guards?”

“I wouldn’t blame you. I’d get away, of course, but I’d still love you.” He answered honestly. “I think we both know that I have a lot of practice of avoiding guards while getting in and out of manors visiting a certain pretty girl. Your father can attest to that.”

“If I asked you to stay?”

“I’m yours to command.” Nevano stepped closer. “You’ve risen high in this world, pretty lady. I’m still a lowly commoner, far beneath you. Command me, my lady.”

“So says the Nerevarine.”

“Today I’m not the Nerevarine. Tonight, for you, I’m merely Nevano, a lowly, love-struck man come to worship the goddess of beauty. Dibella has nothing on you.”

Finally she smiled at him, that gentle love-filled smile that melted all the years of age, stress and grief off her face so all he saw was the sparkle-eyed young girl he fell in love with all those decades ago. The muscles in his abdomen clenched and the heat in his stomach began to collect in his lower body. Slowly he gathered her in his arms and, after blowing out all but the farthest candle that he couldn’t be bothered to reach, took her to the bed. 

Already he could see the change in her. Her smile was wilder and her eyes sparkled with the excitement of such indecent and uncultivated behavior under her husband’s nose. There was a trace of fear there, the fear of what would happen should they get caught, but the threat of ruin merely added to the rush of pleasure. It was as if they were picking up where they had left off all those years ago, sneaking around behind her angry and suspicious father’s back. For a brief and wicked moment Nevano wondered what the look on Sorosi’s husband’s face had been when he discovered that his bride was no maiden. Nevano smirked; he had made off with that prize decades ago. 

He took his time. Sorosi was not like the other women he had been with. They had been faceless, nameless numbers that he had desperately tried to lose himself in as he sought to forget Sorosi. There had been no love involved, often no emotions at all other than a feral need to quench the fire that burned in the pit of his belly. Only Sorosi, only his beautiful Redoran noble, the forbidden fruit that he couldn’t help but return to again and again, had been able to satisfy that primal urge. 

He tried to undo her dress, his fingers stumbling over the intricate buttons, out of practice with such extravagant clothes. Finally he allowed the brief spark of impatience to take over and ripped the flimsy cloth from her body. 

“Nevano!” She turned a mock glare on him. “Back to tearing my dresses? Just what am I going to tell everyone?”

“What you always tell them.” Nevano said, his voice a little husky. “Got caught in the doorway.”

“Oh you…” Nevano kissed her into silence, slowly pushing her back onto the bed. He continued to kiss her as he quickly shrugged out of his own clothes, eager to shed everything that served as a barrier between him and the love of his life, the only love he would ever have or want. He needed to feel her, her mouth on his, her dark skin like silk on his body, her heat mingling with his, burning brighter until they were both slick with the heated passion that only came from two eager bodies intertwining with each other.

Nevano’s hands began to roam over her body, remembering all the places he used to caress. The dip right above her hip, the flat plain of her belly, her sweetly rounded breasts with the dark puckered peaks. He leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the nub with his tongue. He was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure, her body snapping taunt at his sudden ministrations. Oh how he loved that he could bring out that response in her. 

His fingers quested down to between her thighs, seeking the source of the burning heat. He smiled as he caressed between her soaking wet folds. She gasped loudly, prompting him to put his hand over her mouth to keep her from making too much noise. Her hips rose up to meet his fingers, silently begging him to delve deeper, to seek out the burning source of her desire. Instead of complying with her unvoiced plea, he instead pulled his fingers away. Sorosi made a protesting noise against his hand. 

“Shhh…” he shush gently against her ear. “Be patient.”

He slowly slid down her body, trailing kisses down her dusky skin, between her breasts, down her belly to the slick burning heat between her legs. His tongue snaked out and he nearly groaned when her taste nearly overwhelmed his senses, so much so that it took him a moment to get a hold of himself again. By then Sorosi was all but bucking with impatience, wrapping her legs around his shoulders and beating her heels against his back. He grinned and flicked his tongue out again, this time finding the sweet slick bud hidden within her velvety folds. She gasped, her legs tightening around his shoulders, which only encouraged him to go deeper. 

“Nevano…” She panted.

He looked up and the sight of her head thrown back, her mouth open as she gasped for breath nearly sent him over the edge. She was open, vulnerable, her naked body splayed wide, just for him. The mere thought made him tremble like a horse held in from a race. She looked down at him and smiled, her eyes glinting at the sight of him starting to lose control. 

She hooked a leg around him and, in one swift movement, reversed their positions. She grinned down at him wolfishly, causing a thrill of excitement to run down his spine. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed. Slowly she lowered her hips to meet his, sheathing herself on him. Her body tightened almost painfully on him, causing Nevano to grind his teeth to keep from groaning out loud. Slowly she moved, sliding up and down on him, her body clenching and unclenching. Now it was Nevano’s turn to make whimpering noises. His fists clenched as his arched his hips up to meet her, desperate to touch her, to get into a harder rhythm, something to satisfy the sudden urgent need in his lower body. Sorosi picked up the pace, dropping herself harder and faster on him just the way he liked it. His blood was boiling and he could barely see straight. It was all he could do to keep from bellowing his mounting pleasure to the world. 

Finally, finally, every muscle in his body snapped taunt. Sorosi clenched tight on him one last time and that was enough to send him teetering over the edge and tumbling into the heady ocean of white-hot warmth that sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout his entire body. He grunted as his body jolted rather violently against her. Sorosi gripped him, riding him through the peak of pleasure until he finally groaned and slumped back, a pleasant glow settling in the pit of his stomach. 

Satisfied and spent, Sorosi released his wrists and cuddled up on his chest, stretching her legs out and tangling them together with his own. He wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her in place, feeling her heart beat against his heated skin. He so desperately wished that he could freeze time and remain like this for the rest of eternity but he knew that their time was very limited. He tried not to dwell on that, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her sweet scent. If there was one moment that he would cherish for the rest of his life, it was this. He held her closer and felt sleep tug at him. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to spend what precious time he had with her wasted in unconsciousness, but his body betrayed him and he slipped off. 

Much later Nevano watched her sleep, the pale light of dawn leaving her dark skin looking smooth and flawless. His gut ached and it had nothing to do with last night’s activities. He stood up, buckling his belt back on and tugging his armor into place. He gently kissed Sorosi on the forehead and made for the window.

“Leaving without a word again?”

“Or leaving before I’m caught, castrated and quartered.”

“Nevano…”

“Sorosi, I’ll always love you. That will never ever change. However, I won’t endanger you by sticking around and angering your boring husband. Just know this: if you ever need me, I will find a way to be there.” 

Before she could say anything that would make him stay or do something stupid, he slipped out the window and disappeared into the pale dawn light, feeling Sorosi’s eyes on him until he was gone from sight, hating himself every step he took away from her. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 17th Hearthfire – Safepoint Adrusa, Morrowind

Those eyes. They were…orange. Veleth could barely believe what he was seeing. He didn’t notice the glass shards at his feet. He hadn’t meant to drop that vase or whatever it was he had been holding but when he had gotten a good look at the Churl, at those damned distinctive eyes, his hands had gone completely nerveless and it had slipped from his fingers to shatter on the floor. 

“My name is Nevusa Hlervu. Sorosi Hlervu is my mother. I am your daughter.”

Nevano had apparently already figured that out because he passed out on the floor before the Churl had even finished speaking, causing her to trail off awkwardly. 

Veleth didn’t pay Nevano’s prone form any mind. The smaller mer would be fine. He just couldn’t stop staring at the woman standing across from him. He couldn’t help himself. He had spent most of his early military career in a direct parallel with the Churl, almost in competition with him…her. They had never met face to face but they had been compared and contrasted by everyone around them up until he had left for Solstheim and even then he still had to deal with the sighs that he could have been as accomplished, even considered for general, as the Churl. He certainly hadn’t expected his counterpart to be this mischievous woman who, now that he could actually see her, looked to be around the same age as he was but half his size. Then he found himself looking at those bright orange eyes and he couldn’t blame Nevano for fainting. He almost felt like joining him but clamped down on the woozy feeling. One of them needed to stay standing for gods’ sake and he refused to be the one on the ground. Still it was hard to tear his eyes away. She was very much a female version of Nevano, the biggest difference, he decided, other than the eyes, was the hair. Nevano had dark red hair that couldn’t make up its mind which direction it wanted to grow but this girl had short raven colored locks that curled more or less in the same direction. When she looked at him, her eyes sparkled with an amusement that she had caused two warriors of such renown to practically crumple at her feet by merely telling them her name. 

“Of all the things I was expecting, this…wasn’t one of them.” Nevusa said. 

Veleth bit his tongue at that. It took every ounce of his considerable willpower to keep his voice from rising an octave as he spoke. “By the gods, can you blame him? This was supposed to be impossible. You were supposed to be impossible.”

“There’s no such thing as impossible.” Nevusa said. “Especially not in this bloodline. He became an immortal god-killer. It doesn’t get much more impossible than that. After seeing those eyes of his for myself finally…well, there’s no longer any doubt is there?” 

Veleth took a closer look at her eyes. They were not a solid orange as he first thought; the edges were a deep reddish orange with gold bursting from the iris. If the color wasn’t enough of a dead giveaway, they were also the same size and shape as Nevano’s. If he looked right at the gold sunburst, it was just like looking at Nevano. Then it fully struck him like a bolt of lightning, nearly causing his heart to seize up. Nevano had a kid. Nevano…had a kid. Nevano had a kid. 

“So…why hide?” He asked, fighting back a shudder. 

“I thought you of all people would understand.” She said. “You, who went all the way to Solstheim to create a division between yourself and your father. But to answer your question, I didn’t want to be known as the Nerevarine’s bastard child. I don’t think my mother ever fully admitted to exactly who sired me but it was that secret that everyone knew even if no one talked about it out loud. Still, I wanted to be me.”

Veleth frowned but nodded. “That’s not why I stayed in Solstheim but I see your point.”

“Oh? Then why did you stay, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It was a dangerous place and the people there needed my help. Not to mention the guard there was a bunch of hopeless fetchers in desperate need of training.” She nodded but he could see that she didn’t believe him for a second. However he didn’t fully care right now. There would be time for truth later. He nudged Nevano in the shoulder with his foot, trying to rouse him. “So where did you learn to fight like that? Redoran don’t usually favor light armor or short blades. It’s impressive though. I can see why you got the nickname ‘Churl’.” 

“When I was young a group of Ashlanders that had fled Vvardenfell came to town.” Nevusa explained. “Of course, I was immediately forbidden from having any contact with them and, of course, I immediately disobeyed. As soon as they saw my eyes they tried to call me the Ma’Nerevaria, child of the Nerevarine, but I told them I was no one so they instead called ma Nammu.”

“ ‘No-name’?”

“I preferred it at the time. My father and I didn’t get along and my real father didn’t even know I existed.” Nevusa said with a shrug. “My mother refused to acknowledge either way so I was much happier being a no-name. Anyway, I asked if they could show me things from Vvardenfell, things that an Ashlander needed to survive in their harsh homeland. I didn’t necessarily say ‘show me how to fight’ because I knew it would get back to my father and it would lead to a fight and there was enough bickering going on at the time. I didn’t want to drag my new friends into something. Fortunately, they got the gist of it. I like to think they were rather pleased with the chance to teach me. They stayed for a few years before moving on but by then I could hold my own against any of them in a fight. They taught me how to hunt, how to survive in the wild and how to handle most weapons. They asked if I wanted to go with them but despite how much I wanted to, I couldn’t leave, not like that. It would have broken my mother’s heart.”

Veleth silently nodded. 

“Now my turn to ask a question again.”

He looked back up at her, quirking an eyebrow. 

“What’s he like?” She nodded at the unconscious mer on the ground.

“That answer can change depending on who you ask.” Veleth snorted, crossing his arms. “He’s a lot of things. Most know him as a bastard, which is rather true. When I was a child I remember him as being the uncle that would do all the things your mother never let you do behind her back. When we re-met in Solstheim, I realized he was everything my father told me while growing up: bold and reckless, loud, brash, slightly touched by Sheogorath, but will do whatever it takes to protect those he cares about. He can’t stand bullies, especially those in a position of power who abuse that power. It’s never boring with him around, I’ll give him that.”

Nevusa had been snickering while he listed everything off. “Anything else?” she asked eagerly. 

“I could go on for quite a bit but…” Veleth nudged Nevano again, this time eliciting a groan from the much smaller mer. “You’ll find out soon enough. He’s not a quiet person and around you he probably won’t shut up. You’ll get to know him fairly quickly.”

Nevusa laughed. Azura save him, she had his laugh too. Now he was truly scared. 

XxXxXx

Nevano slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling a moment, trying to piece together just what had happened. The last thing he remembered was seeing those fingers. Long, tapered fingers with a distinctive curve in the little fingers that caused them to arc like a sickle from the second knuckle up. He remembered feeling that curve when he held Sorosi’s hand, feeling those adorable little fingers threaded through his calloused fingers like a hug. Then he remembered what had caused his mind to feel like ice had encased it. Those eyes. 

He sat up and saw those unique orange eyes watching him curiously, waiting to see if he would get up or pass out again. So he hadn’t imagined it after all. 

“I’ll leave you two.” Veleth said, heading outside. Part of Nevano was a little relieved but another part of him wanted to chase after Veleth and drag him back in and not leave him with this woman who was his…his…he could barely handle thinking it. Daughter. His head spun a little when he looked at the orange-eyed girl and the word seemed to hang above her head like a signpost. Slowly he stood up so he could meet her eye-to-eye and noted, with a little bit of chagrin, that his own daughter was still taller than he was. 

“I…I honestly do not know what to say.” Nevano said awkwardly. “I don’t know if I should apologize or not.”

“Don’t.” Nevusa said. “Apologize, I mean. There’s nothing to apologize for.” 

“I never knew you existed.” Nevano said. “If I had known…”

“What would you have done?” the young woman cut him off. “Stolen a woman and her newborn child away? Taken them to where? Caused a scandal for everyone and caused more problems than solutions all because you think it was the right thing to do? My mother has never admitted to who exactly my father is, not publicly, not privately. She could have lied and said her husband was my father but I don’t think she could bring herself to do it. So she simply held her silence, ignored the whispers and raised her child the best she could.”

“Perhaps you’re right but still…” I wanted to know my child. He couldn’t say the words out loud. It was curiously painful to think about. He had never really thought about having kids, having lived with the assumption that it was impossible. To see that that was incorrect, to see an actual child of his, brought out a painful tug in his heart. She was grown, but he could easily envision her as a child as mischievous as he had been and the pain grew, desperately wishing he had been there to know her. 

“She knew that one day I would meet you.” Nevusa smiled gently. “I think it hurt her everyday she kept it a secret but she took comfort in the thought that this day, this moment, would happen.”

“Is she…?

“She’s still alive. Alive and well in Necrom. She’ll be happy to know that you are as well.” Nevusa said. “She never believed you left for Akavir, since she knew you hated being on water, but she was worried when you suddenly disappeared. I told her that it was my intention to look for you but she told me that I would never find you if you didn’t want to be found, to be patient and you would find me. I never realized just how right she was going to be.”

Nevano smiled. Sorosi knew him so well. 

“I have many things I want to ask you, I want to know more, I’m desperate to know more but…” Nevusa sighed. “That will have to wait. General Garil has tasked me with helping you solve this and we should get going on that. I don’t think these undead will wait for us to have the reunion we want.”

“Maybe when this is over we’ll have some time to talk.” Nevano agreed. “You’re right though. I’ll get the Bull.”

Nevano went outside and found Veleth watching the horizon slowly pale towards dawn. He stood next to him. Normally this area had magnificent dawn lights, orange and yellow and pink, but there wouldn’t be visible today as the inky dark of night gave way to the pale grey of the clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over the area. Nevano sighed in disappointment and looked over at Veleth. “Whatever I was expecting…this wasn’t it.”

Veleth gave him a rather wry smile. “You weren’t?”

“Undead attacks, Mournhold under siege and a daughter I never knew I had. Just a little on the unexpected side.” Nevano gave Veleth a sidelong look. “Quit smirking. The next set of surprises could be on you. Any chance of you having a child you didn’t know about?”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

“Straight-laced soldier.” Nevano managed up a small smile. “Come. Time to get to work.”

They went back inside and found that Nevusa had already pulled out a few maps. She didn’t look up as they walked up. “I was thinking about Garil said, that you wanted to try to take down the barrier?”

“Correct.” Nevano said, watching her sort through the pile with lightning speed. 

“What is your plan?”

“I don’t have one yet.” Nevano readily admitted. Nevusa stopped and stared at him while Veleth gave a small, resigned sigh. “I’m no mage so I have no idea how to go about dispelling it. However I do know that I don’t have to be a mage to take it down.”

“Well, that’s a start of a plan…” Nevusa said and tapped at a map. “I have a better one though.”

“I’m listening.”

“We have a…scholar of sorts here.”

“Of sorts?”

“He’s here due to an…unofficial pact. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the Shad Astula…”

Nevano gave her a look.

“Right. It was the school of magic in Morrowind back during the second era. Well, its focus was on magic but it was actually a militarized school that prepared the children of the Ebonheart Pact for roles in the Alliance War. After the Alliance Wars were over, it refocused its purpose to mainly the study of magic. Over the centuries it melded with the Mages Guild, rather unhappily I might add, but the Mages Guild had the influence of the empire to force such a merge. When the Mages Guild disintegrated, the Shad Astula saw its opportunity to reform. However, that is easier said than done, especially for an organization that hasn’t been in the public’s mind for centuries. In addition to the Shad Astula, there are three other schools of magic: the College of Winterhold, the College of Whispers and the Synod. Each school was competing for the favor of the empire…well, the College of Winterhold isn’t. They prefer to remain neutral and dictate their own course of study. But the Shad Astula wanted nothing to do with the other two. The College of Whispers and the Synod were considered Imperial lap dogs, no better than the Mages Guild that had swallowed them up and then spit them back out. The College of Winterhold has refused to openly form any sort of alliance or a show of assistance BUT they did take pity on the Shad Astula as they appreciated the want to remain an independent school so if a mage wanted to perform research or some sort of experiment outside of the college, they were indirectly directed towards the Shad Astula. The extra help was welcomed and slowly they’ve been building back up again to their former glory.”

“So this scholar is from the College of Winterhold working through the Shad Astula?”

“Yes.”

“Great. The mages at the College of Winterhold are even crazier than the Mages Guild…”

“What?”

“Long story.” Nevano muttered. He could see the outline of Keening in his pack. If he stared hard enough he could see a flash of light. He quickly looked away. “Let’s go talk with this mage and see if he’s learned anything about this barrier and how we can work with this.”

“The sun is coming up.” Nevusa said, pulling her helmet and mask back on, her voice again becoming a muffled monotone. “Normally we don’t have these attacks during the daylight hours so the mage goes to the barrier during the day to study it. If we hurry we can be there within an hour or so.” 

XxXxXx

“You said earlier that the undead haven’t been attacking during the day?” Veleth asked as the three jogged down the road to Mournhold. 

“Correct.” The Churl said. “It’s very odd. Most undead don’t leave the area that they rise from and we’ve identified these Ordinators as having risen from outside Mournhold. You can actually see the disturbed ground from where they rose up. But there’s so many! I don’t know where they keep coming from. It’s like they keep rising from a mass grave but we don’t bury our dead like that.”

“Given how decomposed those bodies were, it could very well be that they had been dead a long time, even as far back as when the city fell, and they were preserved somehow.” Veleth mused. “Being raised again made them…pungent again I’m guessing.”

Nevano said nothing as he pushed himself to keep up with the taller mer. He had already delt with a powerful conjurer once and even Ildari, as deranged in her power as she was, hadn’t been able to raise ash spawn in such numbers and with bodies as intact as these Ordinators. He was incredibly worried that whoever was behind these attacks was going to be so powerful that they wouldn’t stand a chance at beating him or her. He huffed; he might have just met his match. 

“There’s Mournhold.” Nevusa said. Nevano looked up, following her pointing finger and saw the massive walls of Mournhold rising from the trees. Even at this distance Nevano could see a shimmer in the air surrounding the dark walls. His eyes widened a little. That was an incredibly strong barrier spell. The only such spell that he could possibly compare it to would be the great Ghostfence in Vvardenfell. 

“The mage’s name is Moric Beaufort. He’s been here for about a year or so now.” Nevusa said, slowing her pace a little as they got closer. “I’m not entirely certain what he was initially researching. I asked once but he has a very intricate way of speaking that lost me fairly quickly. I never asked again.”

Nevano stayed quiet the rest of the way, keeping his gaze focused on the city. From a distance the city had seemed its usual grand and proud presence but as he got closer, he could see that the city was a mere shadow of its former grandeur. The walls were standing but just barely. The stones were cracked, many all the way through, and the mortar was crumbling. Vining plants grew from the cracks, further weakening the structure. The few buildings that peaked over the top were mere ruins now, somehow standing despite the elements doing its best to topple it once and for all. Nevano could only imagine just what it looked like inside those walls. The city of light and magic was now a city of darkness and death. All the while, that horrible green light still stretched up to the clouds overhead, shifting and swirling restlessly behind the barrier like an animal in a cage. 

“There he is.” Nevusa said quietly, pointing to where a robed man was examining the barrier. Nevano sighed internally and walked over, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible and hopefully minimize the headache he knew was coming. 

“No, I do not know the origins of the undead, no, I do not know restoration so I cannot help you with your mystery rash and no, I cannot transport you from this miserable cesspool to Blacklight or Necrom.” The mage said in a bored tone without looking up as Nevano approached. 

“I can guess where the undead came from without your help, I’m free to walk wherever I want and last I checked my mystery rash was caused by talking to irritable mages.” Nevano retorted. “Stress rash, you know.”

The Breton man finally looked up at him, irritation written plainly all over his face. “Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so.” Nevano said. “You’re Moric Braufort, yes? The mage from…I guess I should say the Shad Astula. Or should I say College of Winterhold? Whichever, I’m not picky. I want to know about this barrier.”

“Yes, yes, and keep quiet on that! I’m from the Shad Astula as far as you’re concerned.” Beaufort snapped, sounding flustered in addition to irritated. “Fine. About the barrier, unfortunately there’s not much to tell. It’s merely a physical seal, meant to keep out, not harm.”

“Someone got brave enough to touch it?” Nevano asked dryly, only half joking. 

“After a while, stupidity wins out over prudence, especially among bored, ignorant soldiers.” The Churl slowly turned her head towards the mage, the invisible glare more felt than seen, but the mage continued without giving any sign he had noticed. “However, I don’t know if it’s a simple seal or a blood seal.”

“Ok.” Nevano laughed a bit. “The extent of my magical ability is lighting a candle when I snap my fingers next to it and even that takes some concentration. Magic is not among my many talents. You are going to have to explain this a bit more to me.”

“If the seal constructed by the machinations of a magicka matrix.” Beaufort said. “Or it if was built upon the weaving of a natural life force into the matrix, forming a living magic base from which the frame of the spell is built upon.”

Nevano blinked slowly. “Right. Can we pretend for a moment that I don’t have the education of a noble and was instead taught by those who often needed pictures to understand their contracts?”

“He means that if someone simply cast it or if they killed someone to gain the power to cast it.” Nevusa piped up helpfully. 

“Oh…so like a ward or a ghostfence?”

“Not really- oh forget it. Close enough.” Beaufort sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath about uneducated fools.

Nevano sighed, choosing to ignore the unpleasant remarks for now. “Just tell me how to take the seal down.”

“I won’t have that information until I know what type of seal it is.”

“I thought you just said what kind of seal it was! Just how long have you been staring at that seal?” Nevano narrowed his eyes, anger sparking in his gut. He had had enough dancing around with this mage. He wanted to get the information they needed and get to work. Time was ticking away and he was starting to feel rather impatient.

“I’ve been ‘staring at it’, as you so crudely put it, since it was first cast.” The mage crossed his arms. “There are many types of seals, not just the two I mentioned earlier. Rushing leads to mistakes and I rather doubt you would want a critical mistake to be made in such a momentous undertaking.”

“Look you fancy speaking s’wit!” Nevano flared up, his temper finally getting the better of him. “I don’t have time to deal with you wanting to further your research or whatever it is you’re doing here and I certainly don’t have time to try figure out just what your damn words mean! If you have no idea how to deal with this then tell me so I can go find some fetcher who does know what they’re damn well talking about!”

Veleth groaned when Trueflame and Hopesfire flared up, casting a red and blue light around them, grabbed Nevano by the back of his armor and bodily dragged him away, the Churl following, trying her hardest not to laugh. 

“Put me down.” Nevano spat after a few steps, twisting in Veleth’s grip. He immediately regretted saying anything when Veleth readily complied and unceremoniously dropped him in the dirt. 

“As usual, the resident mage isn’t going to help.” The tall mer said. “But then again, he doesn’t want to. He’s bored and he finally has something to play with and he doesn’t want us to take it away. He’s remarkably blind to everything going on around him. We got to find another solution.”

“I was afraid this would happen. Fortunately I think I know of someone else who can help.” Nevusa said. “We got to travel a bit though…”

“Do we have a choice?” Nevano grumbled, picking himself up and spitting out a mouthful of dirt.

“No, not really.” Nevusa said with a smile as she walked away. “Come on, it’s not far at all to Darvon’s Watch. If we hurry we should get there before tomorrow evening. Garil already has pledged me to you so now he has to live with me being gone for a few days. Let’s see if you boys can keep up with me.”

Veleth shot a look over at Nevano. “This is your fault, you know.”

Nevano responded with a rather rude gesture. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 19th Hearthfire – Darvon’s Watch, Morrowind 

“So who exactly are we trying to find?” Nevano asked as they walked along the rocky reaches of Morrowind’s shoreline. He imagined that the hazy horizon was deliberately clouding Vvardenfell’s southern shore, shielding the ruins of Vivec City from curious gazes such as his own.

“A witch.” Nevusa said as casually as if he had asked about the weather. “She lives west of Darvon’s Watch so we won’t have to go into the town itself.”

“A witch?” Veleth asked incredulously. Nevano raised an eyebrow in curiosity as well. 

“Yes, a Bosmer witch to be exact. She specializes in mysticism.” Nevusa explained. “I know it sounds strange but she is a highly accomplished mystic. If anyone can help us with this, it’s her. I had actually petitioned Garil to let me seek her out for help when the undead first attacked but he prefers the direct approach of ‘attack first, cast later’. Then the attacks grew more frequent and more intense and I couldn’t be spared to make the trip. Stubborn old fetcher…” 

“And just why would an old Bosmer woman help us?” Veleth asked. “What sort of favor will we owe her in return?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have that taken care of.” Nevusa said brightly. “Several years ago a pack of Argonians broke through and were determined to burn the town to the ground but she refused to evacuate with the rest of Darvon’s Watch. I positioned myself by her house and made sure she stayed safe. It wasn’t a favor I ever intended to have repaid but I think this whole situation is dire enough that I don’t feel bad calling it in. Her name is Glathil but everyone calls her Auntie Glathil.”

She led them to a small shack on a hill that overlooked the town of Darvon’s Watch. It would have been just like a common wooden cabin found Tamriel over except that it was almost completely decorated with charms. A breeze from the not-so-distant coast gently rattled the array of trinkets and the air was suddenly filled with the sound of pieces of metal and glass clinking against each other and carved wooden symbols clattering. Feathers, fur and dried herbs fluttered, making the entire cabin seem as if it were a living creature. 

“Charming.” Veleth muttered. 

“What’s wrong, Bull?” Nevano asked. “Witches make your nose twitch?”

“Magic in general makes my nose twitch.” The bigger mer grumbled. “Half of magic is guess work and the other half is dangerous.”

Given that just about every encounter with magic Veleth had ended up in a bloody conflict, Nevano couldn’t say he blamed him any. 

“Would you two stop being cowards?” Nevusa said as she knocked on the door. “Magic is only as dangerous as the person wielding it, same as some fetcher wielding a sword or bow or a rock or even their bare fists. Stop clucking like scared chickens and get over here.”

“Huh…just like her mother.” Nevano grinned.

Veleth groaned, making Nevano grin even wider. 

The inside of the cabin was just as eccentric as the exterior. Dried herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling, filling the air with a sharp aromatic scent. Small charms and trinkets filled the shelves on the walls amid dusty books in languages Nevano didn’t recognize. A cat darted out from underneath a table, which was strangely empty in comparison to the general clutter of the rest of the cabin with the exception of a well-kept crystal ball. Sitting at the table was Auntie Glathil. 

Auntie Glathil turned out to be everything Nevano had imagined a witch should be. She was a withered, tiny creature, easily the most ancient elf he had ever seen without the intervention of necromantic magic like what was practiced so often with Telvanni mages. Despite her frail shell, the strength of her spirit shone through her eyes with such a force that it made Nevano think that he shouldn’t underestimate her for a second. Despite his misgivings, the old woman’s smile was sincere enough that he pushed his feelings aside and took a cautious step inside. 

“I had to just intrude, Auntie Glathil, but we need your help.” Nevusa said, taking off her helmet. “You know of the barrier surrounding Mournhold, yes? Can you tell us more about it and, most importantly, how do we dispel it?”

“Hmm, yes, I can tell you about it but first let me take a look at our guests here.” The old crone scrutinized Nevano carefully, making his skin feel like it was crawling. “Ah yes, the Nerevarine. You still are just as handsome as you were 200 years ago. That eternal youth becomes you…except your eyes. Your eyes have aged where your body has not. They carry the burden of a life that has frozen in place, watching the world as it passes by. They carry the burden of the lives you’ve had to sacrifice along the way, innocent and not. You carry their souls with you…and you try to ease that horrible burden by laughing. You tread the fine line of sanity every day, knowing that you can’t go back to the life you wished you had, that falling to either side would mean not just your ruin but that of everyone around you so you must keep going ever forward, cutting your feet on the sharpened blade, hauling the burden of a life you never wanted in the first place. Such a difficult place to be in, this living on the brink of losing your entire self.” She stood and walked across the room, picking up charm and slowly making her way back to her chair before continuing. “Your friend Jorun understands. He’s old enough to have seen the consequences of life choices, of fate, and he understands the burden of death. These young ones do not yet have an appreciation for death. They’ve tasted of it through others but it’s not something they can appreciate until they are old and are staring at its dark waiting maw every minute of the day and start to realize that its peaceful silence is preferable to the loud, pointless, onerous wheel of life. Unfortunately, you can only look into that maw and realize that the sweet release death will not come for you. One day, you will have to go to it.”

Nevano found that he was shaking, rattled to his core as the witch cracked him open and read every deep seated fear he held close to his soul. He could barely breath as the horrible reality of his existence was laid bare for him. He couldn’t run from it, he couldn’t look away. Glathil was right. Death watched him, every day, every hour, unable to pull him into its dark embrace. He cheated death every day he was alive, feeding the beast the souls of those he killed in this seemingly endless life in place of his own. He clenched his hands into fists, struggling to push everything back into the mental box he had locked it in. 

“We didn’t come here for a fortune telling, which is nothing but guessing games anyway.” Veleth growled. “Can you tell us about the barrier or not?”

“Guessing games hm?” The old woman gave him a smile so cold that Veleth actually took a step back. “Such skepticism. I should have expected nothing less than this from the stubborn child of Jorun and Drelasa. You earned the nickname ‘Bull’ after all. As much as I could let fate be cruel, I do owe my lovely friend here and a friend of hers is a friend of mine, no matter how rude. So I will give you this warning: you believe that the past is behind you and stays in its place but you are a fool to think so. The past is not dead, oh no, it is a living, often vengeful animal. It does not like to be ignored. The past will come back to haunt you. It will make your heart whole in a way you didn’t realize was missing…then it will shatter into a thousand pieces with no hope of ever recovering all the shards. Brace yourself, boy, for you will need all the fortitude of a wild bull to make it through with your mind and soul intact.”

“Auntie Glathil…the barrier…” Nevusa whispered, her eyes wide.

“Oh yes, that’s right.” The witch switched right back to the sweet little old lady act and settled into her chair, hanging the charm over the crystal ball. “The barrier.”

Nevano continued to struggle to put Glathil’s haunting message out of his mind and to focus on the subject at hand. It wasn’t easy. He was still very shaken. Glathil had opened an old wound he had thought had scarred over and all the old doubts and hopelessness that had driven him away from civilization for the past twenty-five years welled up. Why was he still alive? Why was he allowed to live, to stay young, while the rest of the world aged and died around him? What was his purpose now? Those doubts and insecurities were a greater source of terror to him than any rat or body of water. He forced himself to stare at the swirling mist within the ball on the table, trying to let the amorphous swirls calm his disturbed thoughts. 

“This barrier is an interesting one.” Glathil said, her fingers dancing gently above the ball’s surface. “It is a simple cast, not a blood barrier, and it was not cast with evil intentions. The barrier was meant to protect those on the outside, to keep them away from the dangers held within. Whoever cast it did so at great personal sacrifice. Very brave and noble but, ultimately, foolish. If the caster were to die, then the horrors that lie within the barrier will be released.” 

Nevano’s mind, still half on the dark thoughts the witch had inspired in him earlier, began to turn over. Slowly the darkness morphed into dark tunnels, dank and damp, filled with monsters. He smiled as the tunnels in his mind began to look very familiar, the monsters turning from dark shapeless beings into something solid and clear. He remembered the stench of the sewers surrounding him like a hot, wet blanket as he plunged his sword into the maw of possibly the ugliest creature in existence: the Durzog. Suddenly everything made sense. Now he had a plan. 

“I can dispel it but it will require reagents that I do not have so you will have to go…” Auntie Glathil was saying. 

Nevano held up a hand to stop her. “Never send three warriors to do an alchemist’s job, especially not with me in the group. I can’t tell one plant apart from another. Besides, I don’t want you to dispel it.”

“You don’t?” All three asked in perfect unison, in varying tones of incredulity. 

“No, I just got an idea.” Nevano said. “Can you tell me if that barrier stops at the surface or if it continues on underground?”

“You’re thinking of going under it…” Veleth said. 

“Remember back when we first arrived in Blacklight and I told you that Mournhold had the best sewer system I had ever had the pleasure of crawling through?” Nevano watched as understanding dawned on both younger mers’ faces. “It’s time to make full use of that.”

XxXxXx

A/N: Bonus scene alert on this chapter. Whew, I didn’t mean to take so long on this. I had to take care of some badly neglected school/house/yard/pasture/horse/dog/me work before I could get back into my writing zone. Speaking of the zone, after a lot of back and forth and deliberation….yes, all that just happened. To quote one of Jeff Goldblum/Dr. Ian Malcolm’s most iconic lines “I’m simply saying that life, uh…finds a way.” 

All right, on a far more serious note, I was notified that I had gotten Trueflame and Hopesfire mixed up. My heart absolutely froze and I ran to look and, lightning strike me down, I mixed the names up. My first thought (after a good deal of cussing and cursing) was “Time to fire the editor!” but then I realized that there is no editor. Just me. Crap. I greatly apologize for this (rather major) goof. Usually I’m a huge stickler for things like this right but with everything going on my brain decided that that was the time to pull out the dyslexia. Honestly those two names mix themselves up and both ring very much correct in my mind. Again I apologize and I’m going through every measure I can think of to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I can’t believe I did that in the first place. UGH! 

I also feel I should say this: I love all y’alls feedback. Yes, criticism stings but only because I think to myself “Well, duh, stupid, why the hell didn’t you think of that the first time around??” and not because I feel like anyone is out to get me. Criticism is the most useful tool to a writer. I do the best I can but I know there is still so much to learn. The feedback only makes me a better writer and will make this story and future stories even better. I take risks sometimes, not always knowing if it will pay off or not, and it is your feedback that let’s me know if I succeeded or shot myself in the foot (or hand in this case). I’ve talked to a bunch of you, talking about my clunky last chapter (ye gods I bombed that one. Good example of a risk that did not necessarily pay off), writing suggestions, story building techniques and generally just chit-chatting and those have been possibly the best, most productive conversations I’ve had in a long time (not to mention fun because I can talk shop all day long. I don’t have many friends who are as into writing as I am). What I’m trying to say is, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of you. I write for the love of writing and to make you, as readers, love the story as much I do and have as much fun reading it as I do writing it. Y’all are the best, simply the best.


	30. The Cursed Caverns

Chapter 29

The Cursed Caverns

XxXxXx

4E 201, 20th Hearthfire – Mournhold, Morrowind

“We’re going to make use of Mournhold’s sewer system.” Nevano said as they walked around the east side of Mournhold. “It’s not just a simple set of sewer tunnels. The remains of Old Mournhold are down there as well. An entire city built upon the remains of the old. It’s a massive cavern complex down there. We’re going to have to be careful in our planning or we’ll get lost.”

Veleth stayed quiet. His gut had been giving him warning pangs ever since Nevano had mentioned the sewers and it had taken him the better part of the journey back to Adrusa to realize it was a mere warning and not something he should be overly worried about. If anything, it would be a challenge and that was something he looked forward to. He had to admit, very privately, that he could see the allure of the life that Nevano led. The wandering around, outside of the strict lifestyle of the military, had given him a sense of freedom he had never realized was possible. It brought about a completely new and different set of challenges that he found highly appealing. While he wasn’t keen on facing yet more undead in a dead city under their feet, he was looking forward to the challenge. 

“So why are we going around to the east of the city?” Nevusa asked curiously. “Wouldn’t going around to the north make more sense?”

“Well, I’d rather not go into Almalexia’s temple just yet. The sewer entrance is in the temple itself and if the temple is destroyed or overrun, I don’t want us to be trapped.” Nevano explained as he poked around on the side of a hill. “Also, I remember the eastern sewer system a bit clearer than the western sewers.”

“What about south? Brindisi Dorom?”

“There’s no sewer system there.” Nevano said. “There IS a Dwemer ruin under it though. Ahh…Bamz-Anschend I think it was called? I sealed it up after I poked around in there. It was incredibly dangerous down there with all the dwemer spider things that would shoot poison darts and it had this…contraption that controlled the weather. No one needed to be going down there. The High Ordinators vowed to make sure it would stay sealed. About the only thing we agreed on. The only entrance and exit was underneath what used to be the statue of Almalexia. Not sure what it was replaced with. But not outside entrance there.” 

Veleth listened in as they continued to chatter back and forth but made no effort to join in. He didn’t think he would have been able to get a word in edgewise even if he wanted to. On the walk back from Darvon’s Watch, Nevano and Nevusa had finally gotten over the initial awkwardness of their newfound relationship and had started talking. It had become apparent very quickly that Nevusa had inherited Nevano’s love for talk and - much to Veleth’s increasing chagrin - they had not stopped the entire walk back. It was an endless stream of chatter over anything and everything they could possibly think of. Nevusa was bright and curious and had ten thousand questions, mostly about Nevano’s journey through Vvardenfell on his path to becoming the Nerevarine. Nevano didn’t seem to mind and answered all her questions with a few (rather obvious, in Veleth’s opinion) embellishments. Veleth had heard most of the stories before through his father though he did find it interesting that the only questions that Nevano refused to answer had to do with his encounter with Dagoth Ur. Thinking back on it, even Jorun didn’t know what had happened. He had only seen the aftermath of that terrible fight. That had been something Nevano had kept very private, leading to a storm of rumors and made-up stories that got more and more ridiculous with each telling. Still Nevusa had been undeterred and had simply changed course, picking up another unending stream of questions. Now they were getting close to their destination and Veleth had to admit he was relieved. Maybe now they would shut up. 

“Ah, found it!” Nevano said, using Trueflame to burn away the long grass and brush that hid the small entrance. Veleth gave the cave entrance a dubious look. He would barely call it a cave entrance, more like an over glorified hole that he half-expected a nix hound to come charging out of. 

“This?” Nevusa apparently agreed with him. “I was expecting something…a bit larger. Maybe a bit grander. Definitely some water coming from it.”

Nevano smirked. “No water here. This particular entrance is above the water line. Besides, there’s so sewage actively running from Mournhold, or there shouldn’t be by all accounts. Don’t ask me where it drains off. I have no idea.”

“Right. So, what are we waiting for?” Nevusa asked. 

“As much as I hate to waste time, we need to get some rest before we go in.” Nevano said. “We’ve walked to and from Darvon’s Watch. Once we get into the city, we probably won’t get any chance to rest…or in the sewers. Best to be fully rested before we go in. We’ll spend the night here and set out in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch.” Veleth promptly volunteered. 

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Veleth said. He knew perfectly well he would be lucky to get any sleep at all. Aside from the impending danger of diving into an old sewer, his mind kept turning over the witch’s words for both him and Nevano. He was never been the most sound sleeper; he spent more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping, especially if something was bothering him. 

Nevusa and Nevano quickly settled down while he stared out into the increasing darkness, chewing on a thumbnail. He never put much stock in magic; it was guess work and trickery at the best of times and unnatural and dangerous at the worst. The ash spawn had been proof enough of that. Still, she had said things about him and Nevano that weren’t widely known and that bothered him more than a little. The past was a vengeful animal, the witch had said. The past? What in his past could possible come back and affect him so badly as to…make his heart whole and then shatter it into countless pieces with no hope of every recovering all the pieces? It made no sense. He sighed. As much as he wanted to scoff and shrug the entire thing off as pure nonsense, something in his gut warned him not to, that there was some grain of truth to Glathil’s words. That rankled him to no end.

“Vith!” he cursed when he bit too hard on his thumbnail and pierced the flesh beneath. The blood welled up black against his skin in the dark and slowly rolled down his thumb. The resulting dark trail looked less like blood and more like some creature searching for the network of veins close to the surface of the skin on his wrist. With a shiver, Veleth flicked his hand, casting off the blood. He had no time to fret over an old woman’s tricks. They were planning on facing real enemies in a real situation. He needed all his focus on that. He spent the next several hours carefully thinking about nothing in particular before finally carefully shaking Nevusa awake to take next watch and rolled over to try to get some sleep. Somehow or another, he managed to convince his body and mind to relax enough to allow sleep to take over. 

It was dark; the sky overhead was black with blood red clouds swirling like a cyclone. Lightning showed strangely green against the red clouds. Veleth found he was standing alone in the square in the Military District in Blacklight. The strict buildings glared down at him threateningly. That was strange…he had never before felt threatened by anything in his home city. He started walking through the square, his feet knowing every stone paved into the street. His footsteps echoed unnaturally loud. He had never really experienced the square so empty before. It was unnerving. 

Lightning flashed overhead and thunder assaulted his sensitive ears, making him twitch a little. He looked up at the Watch building, eyes instantly picking out the window where his father’s office was. The structure was darker than usual, a black shadow slowly extending out from it. With a jolt of dread he ran towards it. Something wasn’t right. 

He got to the edge of the darkness and something stopped him from going farther, holding him back. He looked down and realized that the shadow was actually a pool of dark liquid. It lapped at the toes of his boots, staining them. He took a small step backwards away from it then looked back up at his father’s window. 

Blood poured from it like a waterfall. 

Screams. Women were screaming, screaming in horror and heartbreak. Screaming in pain both physical and mental. He recognized the voices that were ripped from raw throats but he couldn’t move, couldn’t go to them, couldn’t do anything to help them. He was frozen in place, staring at the geyser of blood that continued to flow. 

“The age of heroes is gone.” A voice whispered in his ear. He had heard those words before. Who had said them to him? He couldn’t remember. 

Everything around him began to shatter and crumbled all around him, like a vase that had been thrown against a wall. He could only watch helplessly as everything fell apart piece by piece until he was left standing in a vast landscape of shattered remains. Still the screams continued though they were getting farther away, fleeing towards the Veloth Mountains in the west. Soon they faded into nothing and he was left alone in a terrible silence. 

It began to rain, but he quickly discovered that it was raining blood, the red drops streaking over his bare skin. Each drop felt like fire, burning into his soul. He felt sick. He wished one of the wild lightning bolts would just strike him down and free him from this torment. 

“The past will come back to haunt you.” The voice whispered in his ear again, startling him badly. He had thought it had fled with the screams. “It’s a vengeful animal. It does not like to be ignored.”

“Enough.” He growled. “You aren’t real!”

“Why do you continue to rail against the truth?” It hissed. “Why do you continue to fight your pointless war? You know you’re going to lose.”

“Leave me alone!” Veleth snarled.

“Oh but we are everywhere.” The voices were all different. He couldn’t recognize any of them though he knew he should. It was maddening. The whispers continued to hiss in his ear. They taunted him and tormented him. He tried to fight them off at first, tried to ignore them or think about something else but they merely spoke more insistently, forcing him to listen. In a last ditch effort to drown out the whispers, he tipped his head back and screamed, trying to get his voice above theirs. He screamed until his throat was raw and a metallic tang hit his tongue. He didn’t stop though. He had to beat out the voices and his own voice was the only weapon he had at hand. He couldn’t be picky over his choice of weapons now. 

“Stubborn child.” A smooth female voice interrupted the whispers, chasing them away like a hand waving away wisps of smoke. Her voice effectively silenced him as if she had gagged him. “The fight in you is impressive. I see why Boethia favors you. But now is not the time to discuss favor, though you greatly interest me.”

“Who are you?” He asked, coughing a bit as the words caught in his abused throat.

“That does not matter now.” The unseen woman said. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be all around him. “Your obstinate mind wouldn’t allow you to believe it anyway.” 

“Then why am I held here?”

“You think I have something to do with this?” She sounded amused, like a mother entertaining a child’s nonsense, something Veleth found infuriating. “No. This is the prison your own mind constructed. This is all your doubts and fears manifested. You are the only person holding you here. As I said before, the fight in you is impressive…though you spend just as much time fighting yourself as you do the world around you.”

“If this is a prison of my own making then why are you here?” Veleth asked, struggling to get his limbs to obey him again to no avail.

“I have been watching you.” She said. “This journey you are on has been foretold long before you were born, long before all the other players in the game were even a thought.”

“A prophecy?”

“Not exactly.” She said. “There are those who actively avoid prophecies. Past events that occurred have led to your inevitable involvement. You are not the tag-along, you are the second half to this. My champion can’t accomplish this endeavor alone. You are needed. Remember that.”

“Your champion…” 

“Now there is one last thing you must do.” She said. “Wake up.”

“Wake up!”

He jerked and sat upright, swiping at his arms now that he could move again to get the blood off…the blood that was no longer there. He gasped for air, his eyes slowly adjusting and realizing that the dark of night was giving way to day. 

“Whoa, easy there.” Nevano’s voice came from near his feet. He looked over and saw Nevano watching him with a slightly amused, slightly alarmed look, gingerly holding his foot away. From the scuffmarks on the ground it appeared as if he had been thrashing while in the throes of his dream. 

“Sorry about that.” He grunted, pulling his foot back.

Nevano let out a small sigh of relief. “One hell of a dream you had. I’ve been trying to wake you up for the past hour.”

“Surprised you didn’t hit me with anything”

“I did but even that didn’t wake you up.” Nevano smirked and held up his badly travel-stained boot. “When even a smelly boot hitting you in the face didn’t wake you I thought it would be better to let you finish out the dream. There are some dreams that you can’t wake up from.”

Veleth frowned. The dream was already fading from his mind, along with all the details. He remembered that the dream was not a good one. He remembered flashes of red, of screaming…but that was all. He couldn’t remember anything else about it. His mind had already thrown it away like a piece of trash. Or locked it away like a dangerous criminal. For some reason he strongly suspected the latter. 

Nevano tossed him a piece of dried meat. “Eat up. This won’t be a fun walk through a cave.”

Veleth tore off a mouthful of the tough dried piece of leather. He didn’t doubt Nevano’s prediction one little bit. His gut was still giving him warning notices but it hadn’t increased into anything that was on the verge of giving him anxiety. He hated when it did that. However, despite how bad Nevano was thinking about whatever lived in the cave, he would still rather face that than whatever his dream had been about. 

XxXxXx

In stark contrast to the cold wind blowing above ground, it was hot and humid within the tunnels. Centuries of filth from the city above had slewed down into the cavernous depths and collected into fetid pools that had been steadily rotting undisturbed for centuries. The resulting rot released hot gases that had created the perfect hothouse environment. Unfortunately, without the slightest movement of wind, fresh or otherwise, the air was stifling inside the tunnels. 

Nevano instantly felt sweat break out on his forehead and down his spine. He pulled off his cloak and shoved it into his pack, leaving his arms exposed to whatever relief he could possible get. He had no idea how Veleth could stand to be in heavy armor at a time like this, especially as sweat soaked as he was rapidly becoming just wearing light armor. 

“So, exactly where are we headed?” Veleth asked after they wound their way through the tunnel for a little while. “You never rightly explained that.” 

“We’re headed to what’s called the Manor District. It’s what’s left of Old Mournhold.” Nevano said. “We’ll see actual structures from the city. There’re even a few manors you can still go in. I’ve gone in those before. We don’t have time to do that right now but it’s pretty interesting to see.”

“And after that?”

“After we go through the manors, it goes down into the sewers themselves.” Nevano explained, wracking his memories for the mental map he had memorized long ago. “The actual sewers are tiled canals so you’ll know it when you see it. Once we hit those, it’s not far to the exit into the Great Bazaar. Once we get into the city…well, I can’t rightly say because I have no idea what we’ll find. We’ll take a look around and come up with a more solid plan then.” 

“Not a bad idea.”

Nevano stopped, his head tilted to the side. He…knew that voice but he normally didn’t hear it. Not like this. Not an echo in his ear. Then he realized he could feel Nerevar. That in and of itself wasn’t unusual; Nerevar was like an extension of his mind. Thoughts and feelings would flit through as if they were his own thoughts and feelings but it came from a section of his mind that wasn’t in his control. However this was different. He could feel him, as a separate identity altogether. The sense of someone else in his mind, that he wasn’t alone in his head, sent a shiver down his spine. He wanted to claw at his own brain, to rid himself of the sensation. 

“Easy, lad. The barrier between the realm of the living and the dead is very thin here within this barrier. You can hear me almost…” Normally. He almost used the word normal. Almost. They both knew that there was nothing normal about this situation. 

“Why is the barrier so thin here?” Nevano wasn’t aware he had spoken out loud until both Veleth and Nevusa stopped and stared at him. He held up a hand to stop their unspoken question. 

“I don’t know but be careful. The last time the barrier between the realms was so thin, Mehrunes Dagon came into this plane.” Nerevar said. “There are many spirits around here. Not all are friendly.”

Nevano looked up at the other two. “I can hear Nerevar.”

“You told me once Nerevar was in your head…” Veleth started to say, very obviously confused. 

“Yes but not like this. I can hear him, as if he’s a separate person talking to me. Normally when we talk I just know what he’s thinking. It’s almost like talking to myself.” Nevano said. “From what he’s saying, the lines between the living and the dead are blurred. If I can feel Nerevar that close, then there’s almost no limit to what a ghost or spirit around here can do. If you feel something, let me know. We’re approaching Old Mournhold and Azura knows how many spirits have been riled up down there. We might be facing an enemy we can’t do much about.”

Nevano could see Veleth shudder but didn’t comment on it. He felt like shuddering too, especially when he felt Nerevar move in his mind. It was like watching an infant still in the womb move against its mother’s skin. He didn’t mind that it was Nerevar, the mer already knew everything about him as they shared a soul, but the feeling of a whole separate person squirming around in his skull was disturbing. 

“Old Mournhold.” Nevusa murmured as they started again down the tunnel. “I’ve barely heard anything about it until now. What happened that it ended up underground?”

“I only know bits and pieces of its history, even less about how it ended up down here.” Nevano said. Then he grinned. “However, I think Bull here knows the whole story. Something tells me he’s as much into history as his father is.”

Veleth hesitated but Nevano could see he had sparked a flicker of interest. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he only knew tiny snippets of information about Old Mournhold but his reasoning behind pushing Veleth into the spotlight was two-fold. Nevusa and Veleth were getting tense, too tense, with the thought of life and death being so close now and if he could get Veleth talking about the history Nevano knew that he knew, it would help take their minds off the imminent threat of the unknown, at least for a little bit. 

“It’s…a bit of a long story.” He started slowly. “It started with the Four-Score War, back at the end of the First Era. The Empire sought to incorporate Morrowind into the Empire but, of course, Morrowind refused to allow that to happen. It started in the year 2840 and lasted all the way to the final year of the First Era, 2920. After eighty years of fighting, the war was finally looking to be over. Vivec and Prince Juilek had come to a peace agreement and were simply waiting to formalize the end of the war when Emperor Reman broke the terms of the peace treaty and assaulted the Black Gate. Prince Juilek, in a rare show of good faith that surprised the Tribunal, ran to meet Vivec personally to say that he had no part in the assault and while his father was recovering from an injury in a unrelated incident, he could act as Emperor and turn the Black Gate back over to the Dunmer and work out a permanent peace treaty to end the war. Unfortunately, before the prince could get the signed treaty back to the Imperial City, he was killed. Meanwhile, a young woman named Turala, the daughter of a Redoran councilor, had been exiled from Mournhold due her affair with the Duke of Mournhold. Well, that in and of itself wasn’t such a great crime. However, because she was a maiden of House Redoran and the Duke was of House Indoril and she had gotten pregnant and the Duke abandoned her, it became grounds for exile. She ended up with a coven of witches in High Rock and they took her and her infant daughter in, teaching her the arts of conjuration and mysticism. Along the way, she had met up with a spy by the name of Cassyr Whitley who was, by Vivec’s own admission , the worst spy in history. The Dunmer had lost the town of Ald Marak due to his sloppy spy work. He was the laughing stock Tamriel over thanks to Vivec.”

“Vivec causing problems yet again.” Nevano rolled his eyes. 

“Quit breaking up the story.” Veleth waved him silent. “Cassyr met with Turala as she returned from a trip to Wayrest with a few of her coven sisters. He had need of the coven of witches to summon a daedra as Sotha Sil had made a truce with the daedric princes to not be summoned until the war was over. However, as they approached the coven, it had been destroyed in their absense, all the witches and Turala’s child had been killed. Cassyr saw his opportunity to get even with Vivec and lied. He told Turala that instead of the obvious orc raid, it was the Duke of Mournhold sending assassins after her. So great was her rage that she gathered her remaining sisters and called upon Mehrunes Dagon himself to exact revenge. He gladly came forth, with denizens of his plane of Oblivion, and ruined the city of Mournhold. The only reason the whole city wasn’t burned into nothing but cinders was the layer of blood that coated the ruined remains. Almalexia and Sotha Sil arrived, too late to save the city, but they were able to send Dagon back to Oblivion.”

“What about the rest of the war?” Nevusa asked with wide eyes.

“Emperor Reman was killed by his own mistress, the sister of a former mistress he had put to death I might add, by a blade to the throat in the name of the Morag Tong. The Potentate, a wily Akavir, took over as ruler of the Empire and he and Vivec completed the terms of peace, thus ending the war. Almalexia set about rebuilding Mournhold, the new on top of the old, and vowed to never leave the city unprotected again.”

“Until she disappeared at the end of the third era.” Nevusa said. 

“Sure, we can go with that.” Nevano said. Even two hundred years after the fact, people still had a hard time believing that Almalexia had gone mad and had killed Sotha Sil and tried to kill the Nerevarine. They didn’t like to think that Nevano had been forced to kill her, that the ones that Morrowind had depended upon for so many centuries could do something so…mortal as going mad and committing something so heinous as killing her friend and reincarnation of her husband. Nevano winced as Nerevar’s anger and grief hit him like a hammer strike. The emotions were not muffled like they normally were. Instead they were practically shouted in his brain, sharp and loud. Quickly he focused on something else. He glanced over at Veleth. “I’m impressed Bull. You are as much a walking history book as Jorun is.”

“You know perfectly well my father was supplying me with history books from the moment I could read.” Veleth smiled. “Surprised he didn’t do that with you too.”

“I can’t read fast enough for his taste so he settled for telling me tales of history for as long as he had my attention.” Nevano said. “Unfortunately, even that was limited. I thought I had finally found a way to shake that annoying calm attitude of his…until he gave me a book called “ABC’s for Barbarians”. He did it as a joke and he thought he was hilarious. That was when I learned how to set things on fire. He laughed even more. Smug fetcher.”

“That…sounds like something my father would do.” Veleth sighed. 

Finally they dropped down into what looked like a little niche. Whole rough stone walls still pressed in around them, but bits of smooth paved wall with old carvings poked through here and there, giving them the first glimpse into the city that had fallen underground many centuries before. Nevano smiled to himself. The last time he seen these halls they had been thick with Dark Brotherhood assassins, all contracted to kill him. It had been an interesting chase, a silent one, sneaking around the ruins remains of the manors. He had had a merry time playing the deadly game of hide-and-seek, especially when he emerged the victor. 

“Look.” Nevusa said quietly, running her hand over the relief. “This type of fresco is no longer used. It fell out of style ages ago.”

“Welcome to Old Mournhold.” Nevano said. “Just around this bend we’ll see some of the old manors.”

However, as they went further down the tunnel, Nevano started to feel an increasing pressure in his skull, making his stomach churn. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, making him shiver despite the heat. He felt like he was being suffocated slowly, a noose tightening around his neck bit by bit. He had no idea what was happening. Was there some sort of poisonous gas being released from the pools below? If there was, how come the two younger mer with him seemed unaffected? 

Then he saw it - a flash of something materializing out of thin air. It lasted a split second but he knew exactly what it was. Nerevar churned in his head, trying to reassure him, but the feeling of “not alone” only made Nevano that much more uncomfortable. 

He staggered up to join the two mer as they stood at the ledge of the tunnel, looking down into a massive cavern. Old manors stood in defiant glory among the wreckage, doing their best to preserve the old grandeur of the city that used to be above ground. They were obviously ancient – round doors with decorative artwork spiraling out from the handles in the center and the body of the manor rounded and squat. Both of the younger mer were captivated by the sight - Nevusa with a bright open curiosity and Veleth with a veiled interest. He smirked a little watching them before pushing at them to climb down. They couldn’t spend all day sightseeing. 

They reached the bottom of the cavern and Nevano nearly fell to his knees as the pressure in his head increased along with the nausea. A sense of horror and despair was starting to seep into his mind, the feeling that he needed to run, to escape this place. The muscles in his legs began to twitch, as if they were responding to the silent urge to run. None of these emotions were his own but of whatever lived at the bottom of the cavern.

“Stop it.” Nevano muttered, pressing the heel of his palm to his forehead. He heard Nevusa say something, or thought he did, but he couldn’t make out her words. The emotions were increasing, making his heart pound in his chest in a panic. His fingers were starting to shake. “Enough!”

Suddenly the cavern seemed to come to alive. They were completely surrounded by hundreds of spirits, materialized in and out of sight, each time moving in closer. They were reaching out to the trio of living mer, the expressions on their faces ranging from horror and despair to rage and hate. Some were dressed in the garb of those who lived far back in the first era, while some, Nevano realized in horror, he recognized from his time in Mournhold. Their voices were breathy, like yelling into the wind, but they were loud, too loud for being the voices of the dead. Most were begging for help, begging Nevano to save them from whatever horror had killed them, some were yelling at them to run. More than one wanted to kill him. Those he guessed were probably some Dark Brotherhood agents he had left to rot in this same cavern. 

“Nevusa, Veleth…” Nevano ground out from behind clenched teeth, clenching his fists against his temples. “Go left. Run.”

The two spooked mer didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted, staggering a bit when they went through the spirits. Nevano knew exactly the feeling. Going through a spirit like that was like a shock of ice to the very core of the body. It left a person shaky, like their soul had been rattled from its roost. It was very unpleasant and now they were running through hundreds of spirits; their body and souls were screaming in shock. Nevano ran after them, letting Nerevar lend some unnatural strength to his limbs to get him moving. 

They ran through the tunnels, past more ancient stonework and architecture but they didn’t stop to appreciate it. They had to leave the swarm of ghosts behind. Fortunately, none saw fit to follow. For some reason they were contained to that room. Slowly the pressure in Nevano’s head eased and he could run under his own power. Then Nevusa, who was in front, let out a small shriek as the ground beneath her feet simply ended, dropping down into another cavern. Veleth grabbed her before she could fall. Below them the blackness roiled in a slick oily pool. 

“We have to go through that?” Nevusa asked with a wince, still staring down into the abyss below.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” Nevano said, gingerly testing out the path down. The wooden ladder had long since rotted away but the rocks made a stable natural staircase. Carefully he slid down, landing at the edge of the black fetid water. Nevano could feel the heat of the pool on his feet through his boots and the smell made his eyes water. Fortunately he was able to skirt around the pool and jump onto the large rock that dammed it up from running into the next cavern.

He sighed as he looked at the next flooded room. He had forgotten that this room was the final cavern before entering the sewers…and the main room to where the sewers emptied. There was no path around this pool. They would have to wade through the dark sludge. 

Before he could think too much about it, he jumped in, sinking in up to his chest. He shuddered as the warm thick water seeped under his armor, slowly rolling against his skin. Unseen objects bumped into him, making him flinch and hope that nothing was actually living in this mess. Slowly he began to wade through the pool, holding his breath as the disturbed water burped up pungent gases. Finally, just as Nevano thought he couldn’t take much more, his feet felt the ground rise up and a few steps later he was able to stagger out of the pool. He gasped for a lungful of slightly fresher air and shivered in disgust as he felt the slush slide down his skin. 

“That…was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.” Nevusa said as she sloshed out of the pool. Veleth was quiet but Nevano wished he had a way of immortalizing the look on his face. 

They looked up to see an old wooden door, its hinges completely rusted over. Nevano tried the latch. It was unlocked but years of disuse had rusted it shut. No matter how hard Nevano tried, he simply couldn’t shove it open. Then Veleth simply shoved him aside.

“Let me.” He snarled. One strong kick splintered the old rotted wood. “THAT is how you open a gods damned door!”

“Consider yourself our official door opener from here on out then.” Nevano smirked. 

The smell hit them first. In stark contrast to the smell of rot in the caverns behind them, this putrid stench was of filth and death that made all three of them cough and gag. Nevano could feel his stomach flip over yet again, very unhappy without the day’s events were treating it. Nevano couldn’t say he blamed it one bit though he heavily regretting trying to eat breakfast earlier.

“Left.” Nevano gagged, pointing down to dark tunnel. “Straight down that way. Look for tiles. In these sewers, tiles indicate the main sewers lines that lead out.”

“It’s so dark down there.”

Nevano pulled out Trueflame and gave the mental command for it to light. Immediately its fiery light pierced the darkness around them with a comforting red light. The rough stone walls around them were illuminated, unfortunately reminding them just how far underground they were. The thought of hundreds of tons of rock and dirt above them was disconcerting. 

“Let’s go.” Nevano said. “It’s not far now.”

They made their way through the rough tunnels, only running across the occasional pest like rats, which Nevano wouldn’t touch, or other small creatures and insects that scurries away from the light and didn’t bother them. Finally Trueflame’s light illuminated a rusty iron gate. 

“Here. The actual sewers are on the other side of this gate.” Nevano said in relief. Then he frowned as his memory replayed the last time he had come through here. “That’s weird. This door here was never shut. And…it’s barred. From this side. There was never a bar on this side. The lock is on the sewer side.”

The answer was quickly, horrifically, apparent. The bazaar sewer was filled with skeletons. Most were broken and scattered but a few were still whole, still in the rotting remains of the clothing they had died in, some in the same positions they had died in. They were curled in a fetal position, some huddled together. They seemed to have simply given up and had curled up, waiting to die. One was stretched out in front of the door, one hand reached out as if he had died trying to escape. 

“Azura’s light…” Nevusa breathed. 

“They must be citizens who were trying to escape the night the Argonians invaded.” Veleth said. “It’s hard to tell if they died from the Argonains, hunger, thirst or if something else entirely killed them.”

Nevano didn’t say anything. He had been through these sewers enough to know that more than rats and ghosts of the old city resided underground. Several of the ghosts that had assaulted them back in the old manor district had not been of Old Mournhold. In fact, he had seen a woman in a blue dress, trying to warn him of something. That same blue dress, now dirty and rotting but with a distinctive red trim, lay wrapped around a skeleton not a few feet from him. These poor people had not died from the attack on the city above. They had been cornered and systematically slaughtered by something below. 

“Get your weapons out.” Nevano said evenly, easing Hopesfire out and adding the elegant sword’s gentle blue light to Trueflame’s. “These people didn’t die of hunger. They died to satisfied something else’s hunger…and entertainment”

The two younger mer didn’t question him. They immediately pulled out their weapons. 

“Goblins.” Nevano said, distaste creeping into his voice. “I was wondering why we hadn’t seen any before now. The tunnels under Godsreach used to be thick with them and their little pets but there’s nothing containing them anymore. I’m willing to bet Hopesfire and Trueflame that those nasty creatures deliberately locked these people in here and kept them as cattle. When they had their fill, they let the durzogs in to feed. When those had satisfied their hunger, they left the ones they didn’t want to die.”

“Durzogs…” Veleth murmured. 

“The ugliest thing you’ll ever see.” Nevano said, straining his eyes to catch the slightest movement in the darkness. “It’s the goblin’s war hound but they look less like hounds and more like heavily armored lizards with fangs and bad breath. They move way too fast and they go for your throat every time.” 

“You’re certain that there are durzogs still down here?” Nevusa asked. 

Nevano didn’t answer her. In the dark tunnels, the sound of water dripping echoed impossibly loud but one drip rang discordantly to his sharp ears. Then another drop made his ears twitch, and another. It dawned on him that the noiss he was hearing wasn’t water dropping at all – it was claws tapping on tile. Slowly he started to make out shapes moving in the darkness and realized with a sinking feeling that the entire time they had been standing at the gate, a pack of durzogs had been slowly moving in on them, their paws mostly silent save for the clicking of incredibly long sharp claws. Nevano forced himself to keep his breathing steady even as his heart rate rose watching the massive dark shapes. From the way he could hear the barest shift of armor as the other two tensed up, they had seen the movement in the dark and realized they weren’t alone anymore either. 

Growls began to echo in the tunnels, making the hair on the back of Nevano’s neck stand on end. Two points of yellow light lit up in front of him, far closer than he thought they were. Two became four, then six, and then twelve. The growls rose in volume and ferocity, the noise making Nevano’s soul shiver. Trueflame and Hopesfire flared brighter. Their fierce light ignited Nevano’s own fighting spirit that the growling had attempted to gutter out. Fear was pushed back, replaced by the excitement of the fight, of the rush of adrenaline. He had forgotten how much he had enjoyed the challenge of these beasts. 

With a roar, the two closest burning point of light exploded out of the darkness and Nevano found himself staring into a gaping maw of way too many rows of sharp teeth. He didn’t even think about what to do, he simply dropped backwards, Trueflame and Hopesfire thrust overhead as the durzog passed overhead. The animal was massive, easily as long as Nevano was tall and covered in thick armored plates…except for on its belly. The sharp blades bounced off the armored plate on the creature’s chest then sank deep into the vulnerable belly. Blood rained down on Nevano as the durzog’s own momentum effectively gutted itself. It hit the ground behind Nevano and slid into the wall, leaving its organs in a trail behind it from its ruined belly. It didn’t move from its resting place. 

As if a signal had gone off, the remaining durzogs charged in, baying loudly. Nevano, still flat on his back on the ground, suddenly found himself struggling to hold snapping jaws away from his face. The only thing keeping the long teeth from sinking into his flesh was the butt end of Hopesfire lodged against the durzog’s hard palate when the blade had gotten knocked into the ground by the durzog’s lunge. Nevano punched the durzog in the eye with his free hand, trying his hardest to distract it, to get it to let it off just enough for him to bring Trueflame to bear, but he kept hitting the heavy ridge that protected the eye. Quickly he pulled his foot up to his hip and scrambled desperately for the knife he kept in his boot. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the hilt he wasted no time in burying the knife deep into the durzog’s eye. It yelped and fell backwards, enough for Nevano to whip Trueflame up and open its belly. Then he looked to see how the others were faring. 

Nevusa had somehow ended up on top of a durzog, riding like it was a pony from hell, her dagger buried in the back of its armored head, the creature running in frantic circles as it tried to buck her off. Another durzog chased after them, snapping at the impudent mer that refused to let go. Veleth had already split one durzog’s head open like a melon and was fending off another. 

Nevano pulled out Bonebiter and fired an arrow into the durzog chasing after Nevusa, the magic powered arrow punching through the thick hide of its flank and shattered its hips. The durzog’s hind end collapsed but it continued to drag itself using its front legs, though now Nevano had its full attention. He didn’t give the animal much time to consider its new target though. He fired another arrow right between its eyes, effectively killing it. Then, purely because he felt like it, sent a third arrow into Veleth’s durzog. 

“Gods DAMMIT, Nevano!” 

Nevano grinned then watched as Nevusa pulled her dagger free from the durzog’s head and slammed it back down again, this time cracking through the thick bone and into the soft tissue below. The durzog simply quit running as if its strings had been cut, its limbs twitching uselessly as its brain shut down. 

“Fancy.” Nevano said, watching as Nevusa leaped nimbly off the failing durzog before it hit the ground. 

“I thought that would be worse.” She said, brushing herself off. 

“Try facing that pack alone.” Nevano said with a smirk as her face fell. “To be honest, I don’t think there’s much more than that. There’s no more food down here for them.”

“That brings up something I’ve been wondering.” Veleth said. 

“What’s that?”

“We’ve seen undead Ordinators, ones who have been dead a very long time, we’ve seen ghosts, and we’ve seen skeletons.” He said. “But none of them are of Ordinators. These are all citizens. There was no Indoril armor anywhere along these tunnels.”

“I guess they’re all in the city above.” Nevano said. “Though you bring up a good point…why didn’t they come through the sewers like we are? Unlike these poor souls here, they could have gotten through that locked gate easily enough.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“We’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go. The exit is just over here.”

They continued on through the sewer, careful not to step on any of the skeletons that lay thick on the ground. When the tunnel dipped down, Nevano knew that they had finally gotten to their destination. 

“Well, that explains why no one tried to escape back up into the city.” Nevano said, looking at the destroyed wall where the remains of the ladder to the city above lay in a thousand pieces. “I hope nothing is sitting on the sewer grate…hey, Bull, give me a boost.”

Nevano held on to every little handhold he could find, shoving his toes into tiny crevices to try to anchor himself as he wrestled the grate open. It was an awkward position, holding on upside down while shoving a heavy grate with one hand. Finally he managed to push it open just enough that, if he dropped his pack onto an unsuspecting Veleth below, he could squeeze though. He shivered a bit as the cool wind hit his overheated sweat-coated skin, the temperature difference almost unbearable. He stayed hunkered down among several large pieces of debris until he was assured the coast was clear. Carefully he levered the grate open the rest of the way and leaned down into the hold to help the others up. Veleth boosted Nevusa up and, after a running start, managed to jump up and grab onto the lip of the hole. Nevano helped pull him through and, once he was certain Veleth was on solid ground, took an actual good look around. 

His memory of the Great Bazaar of Mournhold was crystal clear. He remembered the busy lanes, filled with lively people going about their daily shopping, adventurers poking around the armories, mages teleporting in front of the magic shop. Children had run around him, laughing and yelling as they waved their sticks-turned-swords around, girls screaming at the boys to leave their dolls alone and not throw them into trees and the boys somehow getting covered in dirt and mud despite the total lack of mud in the bazaar. He remembered how he had somehow got sucked into playing a part in a play that ended up with him playing decoy for an assassin. He had been well rewarded for his efforts. He could smile now at the memory of him stuttering through lines of a book he had only been given a few minutes to read that, given his level of reading comprehension, he had had no hope of getting through but at the time he had been rather annoyed by the whole situation. Secretly though, he had rather enjoyed the attention of the crowd, the way they applauded him for his, admittedly lacking, acting skills and the praise he had gotten for the way he had dispatched the assassin. He had spent that night happily with several pretty girls who wanted to show their appreciation for those skills. 

There was no laughter in the bazaar now. In stark contrast to the sunny, lively memory in his mind, the bazaar was now dead, in every sense of the word. The rows of buildings that had once housed all the shops, places that Nevano had frequented himself, were now mere piles of rubble in front of him. The trees that had once cast highly appreciated shade over the cobbled streets were nothing more than blackened stumps. Interestingly enough, the wall that separated the bazaar and Brindisi Dorum off to his left was still intact. So was the wall between the bazaar and the temple north of them. However, what alarmed him the most was that he could see that the green light that they had seen was swirling up directly over the palace. 

“Vith…” Veleth breathed, looking around. 

“Yeah…” Nevano said. “I’m not liking that that light is over the palace. What d’you think that means?”

“That whoever did all this took up residence in the palace?” Veleth guessed. “Or maybe it’s not a someone after all. Maybe there was something in the palace, an out of control magic or something of the like.”

“I don’t know if that thought is better or worse.” Nevano said, scrunching his nose in distaste at the thought. A person, hopefully living and breathing, being at the heart of all this was easy enough to destroy. Out of control magic was something out of his realm of expertise. “Well, I guess we should take a look around and see if we can’t figure out what it is. Let’s go…” Nevano trailed off. A slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Trueflame and Hopesfire flared up indignantly and he snapped them out, spinning around. 

He certainly didn’t expect to see a handful of Ordinators sneaking up on them. 

“Vith!” he cussed. “We got company!”

Veleth and Nevusa spun around, weapons drawn. For a long moment, things were tense, weapons quivering from the strain of standing on the brink of battle. Just as things were about to erupt into bloodshed, Nevano met the eyes of the Ordinator closest to him through the mask. They were tired and wary, on the verge of complete despair, but what he noticed, most importantly, was that they were not the blank vacant stare of the undead. This mer was alive, alive and breathing with blood pumping through his veins. A spark of understanding went through the Ordinator’s eyes as he, too, realized that he was dealing with someone with a beating heart. However, the others hadn’t yet realized that they were about to fight an ally. They were settling firmly into their bloodlust. Nevano had a split second to act before a regrettable fight was about to break out. He and his Ordinator counterpart nodded minutely, silently agreeing on their course of action. They moved in the same instant, a perfect mirror of each other’s movements. 

“Don’t!” Nevano jumped in front of Nevusa and Veleth, the flames of his twin swords extinguishing as he crossed them over his chest. “Calm down kids, these ones aren’t our enemies!” 

“Wait, stop!” The Ordinators threw down his sword, yanked off his helmet and stood back to back with Nevano, holding his arms out to his fellow Ordinators. “These ones aren’t dead! They’re alive!”

XxXxXx

A/N: School might be the death of me. I got 3 weeks left until I’m free so this might be the last update you get from me until I’m released from the school’s evil clutches.


	31. The Devoted Ones

Chapter 30

The Devoted Ones

XxXxXx

4E 201, 21st Hearthfire – Mournhold, Morrowind

Nevano held his breath as watched Veleth and Nevusa blink in surprise, the shock of the sudden turn of events overtaking the bloodlust in their eyes. Judging by the uncomfortable shifting of armor behind him, the Ordinators were doing the same thing. When weapons wavered and finally lowered, he allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief. 

“You…” Nevano turned around to face the Ordinator at his back. The exhaustion was still there, but the rest of his look was unreadable. “I saw your eyes and your swords. Only one mer matches that description. But he’s gone.” He stated with an edge in his voice. “Either those are imitations of Trueflame and Hopesfire or you are…” Nevano held up his right hand, clenching it into a fist so his ring stood out proudly. The rest of the Ordinators murmured to each other and shifted uncomfortably. They stilled when their leader waved a hand at them for quiet. “So you are truly the Nerevarine. You chose to come back now. Of all times to come back, you chose now.”

“I didn’t realize that the Ordinators, the holy guards of Vivec, the pride of House Indoril, a mighty fighting force in Morrowind, had come to depend upon me so much.” Nevano said sarcastically. It was the epitome of irony – the faction that had hated him so badly as to try to kill him on sight was now irritated he hadn’t been there to save them. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be annoyed at that or darkly amused. 

“You…” The Ordinator stopped himself with a huff. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. You are the first…sane beings we have seen in a while. How did you get into the city?”

“The sewers.” Nevano said with a shrug. “The barrier doesn’t extend underground.”

“Nerus, I told you to extend it underground.” One of the group groused. 

“We didn’t have the energy to maintain the barrier’s strength then.”

“Wait…YOU put up the barrier?” Nevano asked incredulously.

“Yes…” The Ordinator called Nerus said with a heavy sigh. “Come. I’ll explain. But then you need to get out of here.”

Nevano flashed Veleth and Nevusa a quick smile, one that said he had no intention of following that last bit of instructions. There was only one Ordinator he had ever listened to and he wasn’t here to put a leash on him. Not even close. Nevano would happily drive this group crazy doing his own thing. It would be just like old times. Veleth shook his head and Nevusa held a hand over her mouth to stop a giggle. 

They didn’t go very far. In the corner of the bazaar opposite the sewer entrance, the small pack of Ordinators had created a barricade using the rubble around them. Nevano could see the sense in their chosen position: the walls of the city protected their back and right flank while the raised platform overlooked all of the bazaar, preventing anything from sneaking up on them. It seemed secure but, looking over the dozen or so Ordinators, Nevano could see how dire the situation was. Four of the Ordinators were sitting in a circle, blue light emanating from their upraised hands. Nevano could smell the power of the magic they were casting. It smelled like rain. But he could see the strain it was causing on them. Sweat streaked down the casting mer’s faces, lines on their faces spoke of the great strain on their bodies. The rest of the group wasn’t in any better shape. If a fight had broken out earlier, Nevano had no doubt that he, Veleth and Nevusa would have won purely because the Ordinators had no reserve energy left to fight. It would have been over in a matter of moments. He had never seen an Ordinator look so ragged. 

Nerus sat down heavily and motioned for them to find someplace to sit as well. “My name is Saden Nerus. I know who you three are and I have to say you were the last three mer I expected to see.”

“I’m teaching the two young ones the fine art of doing the opposite of what everyone expects.” Nevano said, ignoring Veleth’s noise of protest. “We didn’t expect to find….well we didn’t know what we were going to find actually but after the waves of undead attacking Adrusa and wandering around the wilderness, we were hoping for the best but fully expecting the worst.”

“There are undead attacking outside?” Nerus said. “Vith…”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Nevano said. “That way, I don’t ask a thousand questions out of order, get everything jumbled up and get the wrong idea.”

“It’s a bit of a long story so get settled.” Nerus said. 

Nevano propped his feet up on a broken piece of wall and motioned for Nerus to begin. 

XxXxXx 

4E 201, 3rd Hearthfire – Mournhold, Morrowind

The air in the city was tense. There was no other accurate way to put it. Ever since the Redoran Army had been asked to leave, everyone left in the city had been tense and anxious, especially since they had been given about as much explanation for the exile as the Redoran had. Patrols had been increased but limited only to within the city walls, leading to more confusion and speculation. There was no more excursions out to try to push the Argonians south, there were no more goodwill missions to refugee camps along the road to help, there was hardly anything happening within the city itself. It was as if the entire order had stalled. There was a streak of darkness running through the ranks, one that stank of fear and a little bit of anger. It was shaking the once strong bonds that bound the Ordinators together.

It was not a situation Saden Nerus ever thought to find himself in when he joined the Ordinators ten years ago. The very order that had once appealed to him was breaking down. Cliques were forming and rumblings were coming from within those cliques yet no one from the upper ranks did anything to quell it. While he found it highly irritating, he realized that he, as moderately ranked as he was, couldn’t find the want to do anything about it either. He simply continued to follow his orders, as little and insubstantial as they were. 

“Nerus.” 

He glanced up to see the group of mer he had come to know really well among the ranks walk up, wearing rather smug, satisfied smiles on their faces. He realized that this was his own clique but he couldn’t quite bring himself to think of them that way. They were the ones who provided a relief from the boredom and the nervousness of the unknown, the ones he could vent his frustrations to without fearing any sort of rebuttal from higher up. They were…he used the term “friends” lightly. Were they not together in the ranks he rather doubted he would have been drawn to their company otherwise. They were brothers in arms. He trusted them to watch his back in a fight and he trusted them with his life but he still wasn’t sure he would call them friends. He raised an eyebrow at their smirks, silently encouraging them to talk.

“We found something.”

“And that something is…what?” Nerus gestured with his hands with a touch of impatience. He was so very tired of nonsense. Their little games were not high on his list of things he wanted to deal with right now.

“An untouched crate with a mark on it that indicates it’s from Balmora.”

“So?”

“The mark is of a brewer from there. One of the best brewers in Vvardenfell at the time.” The smirk grew bigger. “We think it’s an untouched shipment of greef.”

“We’re supposed to report things like this, you know.” Nerus said.

“Don’t be such a stick.” Came the complaint.. 

Nerus started to protest but stopped himself. Report…report to who? Report to his immediate commander who would undoubtedly take the alcohol for his own personal use? To an autarch no one was such existed anymore? For some reason this just rubbed Nerus the wrong way. He looked back at the group who was eagerly awaiting his reply. 

“Show me.” 

With gleeful grins they led him through the Grand Bazaar to where the trader’s shop once stood. There, in the midst of the ruins, stood a crate, strangely intact surrounded by the wreckage of the city around it. Nerus surmised that it probably fell into a pocket and was protected for centuries. He stepped up to it and easily pulled off the rotted lid, revealing bottles carefully packed in old packing material he couldn’t tell the origin of. 

In the back of his mind, Nerus knew that what they were doing was wrong. He knew that they should be reporting this in, following all protocol for anything viable found in the ruins but…he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He reached into the rotted crate and pulled out a jar. The jar itself was weathered and had definitely seen better days but there were no cracks or chips on it and the wax seal on the cork was intact. He stared at the glass container in his hand for a long moment, the strict, righteous voice that had been heavily trained into him arguing mightily against the rebellious, jaded side that had been growing in strength over the past few months. The rebel won. 

He pulled out his dagger and cut the seal, much to the surprised delight of the others with him. When he popped the cork off, the smell of greef that had been sitting undisturbed for centuries nearly knocked them all back. However, he noted that it hadn’t turned. It was heavily aged to a perfection that normally wasn’t seen in such a mass produced alcohol. He was willing to bet it would be on par with Cyrodillic brandy or better. This was something collectors would love to get their hands on. However, Nerus had no intention of sharing this. He gave the bottle one last long look, letting his training give one last plea, before he took a hearty swig of the greef. 

At that moment Nerus became aware of two things: One, they were all going to get horribly, happily drunk and very easily at that and, two, Nerus wasn’t ever going to be able to drink regular greef ever again after sampling this. The comberry brandy went smoothly down his throat and sent tendrils of fire from his stomach out to his limbs. He nearly groaned at the feeling. It had been far too long since he had last indulged himself like this. He tossed a bottle at one of the others standing around watching him. 

“Drink up.”

The group eagerly set upon the crate of booze like a group of children on a bag of sweet treats. As Nerus predicted, it didn’t take long before they all were very drunk, ridiculously so. They didn’t care though. For the first time in months, they found a reason to enjoy themselves, to be lifted from the dark cloud that seemed to constantly hang over them. They were smiling, even daring to laugh once or twice. Whatever punishment might come their way, it would be well worth it. 

Suddenly the bell above the palace began to ring. The heavy, mournful clang rang out once…twice…three times, and then fell silent for a moment before repeating itself. It took a moment for the pattern to sink into Nerus’ mind. When it did it instantly sobered him up and he spat out his mouthful of greef. 

“B’vek! That’s…” He stared in shock in the direction of the palace, still grand and ornate in the center of the city. “That’s the call of the autarch!”

“You’re drunk.” One of his group slurred, lying flat on his back staring at the sky. 

“Shut up, fetcher.” Nerus stood up, still staring at the palace. “That’s the call of the autarch, for us to go to the plaza. By the gods…have any of you ever seen Autarch Andas? Why is he calling us now? What could he possibly want after all this time?”

By now the situation had sunk into drunken minds and the others were on their feet as well. None of them had ever seen Autarch Andas before. If anything, the man was little more than myth among the Ordinators, an invisible being that they were told their orders originated from. Nerus often likened him to childhood stories his mother often used to scare him into behaving. But the three-note alarm was only used to assemble directly before the autarch. 

“Son of a bitch…” Nerus cursed. “We can’t assemble like this! Do you know how much trouble we’ll be in if we assemble in front of the autarch while drunk?”

“But we can’t just miss it!” One of them wailed. “That’ll be noticed more than our being drunk!”

Nerus wracked at his mind, trying to think of a good solution but his mind was muddled with alcohol and he kept coming up empty. All he could do was stand there and stare at the center of the city. 

“Nerus…what do we do?”

“I…I don’t…” Nerus started to stammer but stopped when he felt the ground begin to shake. Or at least he thought it was shaking. It was hard to tell. Between the alcohol still swimming in him and his panic over the call to assemble he was having a hard time stabilizing himself, let alone feeling if the ground beneath his feet was moving. He looked over at the crate of greef and watched the remaining bottles carefully. Before his very eyes, they began to rock in their nests. That was when it finally sank into his mind that he was really feeling the ground shake beneath his feet. “What the hell…?”

“Nerus…look!”

He looked back up at the palace. Before his astonished eyes, green light burst from the roof and exploded up towards the sky. Amorphous shapes swirled in the sickly green light, looking horrifically like tormented souls twisting in their prison. The clouds turned black where the green light touched it and spread like a poisonous gas. The air turned cold, cold as the grave, the comforting warmth sucked from it. What caused him to start shaking in terror though was the sound of over a thousand voices screaming in fear and something else Nerus couldn’t identify. It was coming from Brindisi Dorum, where all the Ordinators were assembled. 

“By the gods…” Nerus said, his voice shaking. The others clustered together, shaking as the screaming got louder and more panicked. Nerus was frozen in place in terror. Then, suddenly, silence. If anything, that was even more frightening than the screams. 

“I think we need to move.” Nerus said shakily. Something deep inside of him was telling him to run, to hide. There was something extremely dangerous out there and his instincts were screaming at him to find shelter immediately. “We…we should hide.”

The others didn’t question him. A portion of the wall had fallen up on the raised walkways that crisscrossed the bazaar behind them, forming a small pocket in the corner where many Ordinators, bored and exhausted on night patrols, would sneak in a nap. Nerus led his small group to this small alcove and hunkered down, watching the gate that led to Brindisi Dorum. They said nothing, huddling together in complete, terrified silence. 

Suddenly the gate burst open and a small handful of Ordinators ran through, scrambling frantically away from some unseen enemy, not even bothering to shut the gate behind them in their haste to get away. Nerus strained to see what was beyond the gate but he was too far away to make anything out. 

The fleeing Ordinators came closer to their hiding spot and Nerus let out a quiet whistle to catch their attention. They stopped, saw him, and ran straight to them. 

“You…you aren’t…” they panted, shaking so hard their armor rattled. 

“Aren’t what? What happened?” Nerus demanded. 

“Andas!” They burst out. “He appeared! He appeared and…started talking absolute nonsense about the king and Morrowind and the Tribunal and then that…that light appeared. It swept over everyone and it changed them! Now they’re all spouting nonsense and acting like men possessed. It’s like watching the puppets of conjurers!”

“How are you not affected?”

“We were in the very back. When we saw that light, we threw up a ward. It worked but barely.” One of them held up his hands for inspection, showing off the burns on his palms and pads of his fingers. “I didn’t see anyone else get away. Worse part is that Andas started talking about rising the dead next, so that they, too, could serve.”

“The dead? But we burn our dead…”

“No…” An older mer said, shaking his head. “Back when Mournhold was first taken by the Argonians, many Ordinators were simply thrown into mass unmarked graves. Andas had decided that instead of digging them up and riling up the souls of the dead, to instead later erect monuments in their honor. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of them buried in mass graves all over the place.” 

“Gods…”

“Nerus, what do we do?” Nerus looked around him and realized that all the mer in the small group was watching him, waiting to see what he would do. It was a shock, and more than a little frightening, to suddenly realize that he was the one silently elected to be completely in charge. For a long moment his mind raced, struggling to comprehend just what was happening to them. Finally he was able to grind out a somewhat coherent idea. 

“Did you say you could do barriers?” He finally said, looking over at the newcomers. 

“Wards, but…we can do barriers.”

“Can you perform a spell to erect a barrier around the whole city? Keep everything in?”

“What? By the reclamations why?!”

“Because we don’t know what’s going on but if this army of possessed Ordinators and undead get out…Adrusa won’t stand a chance. They’ll be taken completely by surprise and wiped out because they won’t realize that they are now the enemy.” Nerus said. “There are towns out there, full of innocents. We can’t do much except try to keep the tide in as much as we can.” 

They all exchanged looks but as the hopelessness of the situation sunk in, four of them slowly sat down in a circle and, with one last look that said they desperately hoped this would work, began to murmur the words needed to enact the massively draining spell. A light began to glow on their upraised palms and surround their bodies as the spell took on strength. Their chanting took on a more fevered tone, faster and louder. Nerus chewed on his lip nervously, hoping that this would work. He knew he was asking a lot of them but he didn’t feel he had a choice. Finally, with one last bellowed syllable, the blue glow that surrounded the mages shot outwards towards the walls of the city. The mages then settled silently, still glowing faintly, their eyes squeezed shut in concentration. The spell had worked. 

Nerus watched as the translucent blue barrier rose up around the city, sealing them all in. He gave a small, resigned sigh. He felt as if someone had just closed a coffin lid on him. He had no answers what to do from here but at least everyone on the outside would be safe. He just hoped that no one would think badly of them. Hopefully, the legend of the Ordinators would outlast this horrible end. 

XxXxXx

4E201, 21st Hearthfire – Mournhold, Morrowind

“Let me get this straight.” Nevano said when Nerus finally fell silent, settling his feet down flat on the ground. “Andas gives an extremely rare call to assemble and you lot are too drunk to attend, which turns out to be your salvation as all your brothers are instead…put under some sort of spell?”

“Yes.”

“And your only idea is to get the few mages you got to put up a barrier around the city to keep everything in?” 

“Yes.” 

“So…did any of you think about what would happen when you finally died because your possessed brothers finally got you or you would die of exhaustion?” Nevano quirked an eyebrow up as they all shifted uncomfortably. “No one? No? Right. I’ll just go ahead and say your idea, while admirable and selfless and all those sorts of fancy words, was stupid. Killing yourself solves absolutely nothing if it doesn’t do anything other than delay the inevitable. So now it’s my turn to use my plan and your turn to shut up and listen and stop thinking about shoving me out the door. I hate being shoved. Ask Bull.” Veleth rolled his eyes. “See?”

“Look, it’s not your…”

“If you say ‘not my fight’ I’m going to shove Trueflame up your arse and light it up.” Nevano said flatly. “It became my fight when we got attacked by undead Ordinators in the woods. You are holding back a flood of destruction. It’s now everybody’s problem. If it makes you feel better, I’m not doing this for free. We can discuss repayment after this is fixed.”

“Wait, I don’t think…” Nerus stammered.

“Great!” Nevano rubbed his hands together. “Time to get things rolling. We got a lot to do kids!”

Veleth leaned over to the bewildered Ordinators. “Best to just go along with it. The more you fight it, the harder he will make this on you.”

Nerus shrugged the warning off and looked hard at Nevano. “Do you actually have an idea? No offense but your reputation among the Ordinators is…mixed.”

“And I can’t tell you how much a source of pride that is for me.” Nevano smirked. “Yes, I do have a plan. Mostly. It’s mostly a plan. It’s better than your plan though.”

“How is it any better than ours?”

“Well, to start off, my plan includes using the man power that resides ready, waiting and grumpy in Adrusa. Not sure if you know General Garil but he is grumbling about the lack of action.” Nevano said. “Secondly, I don’t intend on sacrificing anybody because, well, that’s a stupid idea. Lastly, you can’t refuse because you are desperate enough to swallow that damn Ordinator pride and actually listen to the insane heretic.”

Nevano could hear Nerus grinding his teeth and he couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. He had the Ordinators cornered and they both knew it. They couldn’t say no, not and sacrifice not only themselves but the lives of everyone in the vicinity. If they said no and the horrors that were held within the city would eventually be released and who knew how far the darkness would spread? Safepoint Adrusa would most certainly be wiped out, Darvon’s Watch would easily be next. It could go even farther, to Safepoints Sros, Vvarden, Zyr…even to Necrom. No Ordinator, no matter how badly they disliked Nevano and everything he stood for, could allow that in good conscious. No, they would listen to him. Begrudgingly but that only made him even more darkly amused. 

“Alright.”

“I knew you’d see things my way.” Nevano smiled. “Now, can you hold here for a bit while I get everything underway? Do they leave you alone?”

“No. They’ve already dragged off two of us. We never found out what happened to them. We try to distract the living away. We just…can’t bring ourselves to kill them.” Then Nerus lifted his chin. “However, we will hold out as long as we possibly can.” 

“Great. Bull, Nevusa, let’s go. Back through the sewers.”

“Wait, wait…” Nevusa stopped him. “What about the spirits? That didn’t go so well the first time.”

“We set a majority of them free when we killed those Durzogs. Kill the killers and a majority of spirits tethered here are set free. Usually. Doesn’t always happen that way. There’s a few left in there but we can run through them. I hope.” Nevano frowned. “We don’t have time to really worry about it. We got to hurry back to Adrusa. Garil wanted a plan; I’m about to give him one. Even he can’t complain too much about it.”

“I’m willing to bet against that.” Nevusa said flatly but to no avail. Nevano was already running off towards the sewer entrance. 

“This is where I get to say ‘I told you so’.” Veleth said.

Nevusa sighed. 

XxXxXx 

Safepoint Adrusa, Morrowind

“So it was the Ordinators themselves who put up that damn barrier?” Garil grunted. “That stupid mage from the Skyrim college was telling me there was no way through and no way to figure out who cast it…I knew letting those mages run around here was a bad idea but no one will let me tell them to go to hell.”

“In their defense, I don’t think they were in the right mind to think up of a better plan.” Nevano said, twirling a fork between his fingers. Veleth gave him a strange look but he ignored it. “The mages I offer nothing for though don’t you usually tell them to go hell anyway?”

Garil gave him a one-eyed glare. 

“Anyway, you told me that I better have a decent enough plan before you would agree to help me.” Nevano said. “I think I got plan you will agree to. Well…mostly a plan.”

“…Where in the nine hells did you get a fork?” Veleth burst out incredulously, unable to take it any longer. Nevusa blinked and looked around trying to figure out where Nevano could have possibly found a fork. Nevano really couldn’t tell them where the fork came from. 

“Right, let’s hear this “mostly a plan” of yours.” Garil sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Before the whole ridiculousness of this situation becomes too much.”

“Right now there’s only one sure way into the city and that’s through the bazaar sewers. I’m sure you could go through the west sewers but I didn’t have the time to go through there and clear those out or check to see if the way is clear. Going by what we saw just in the sewers we were in, I’d rather not waste time clearing out whatever horrors live in the west sewers. That’s a venture in and of itself. If there were Durzogs in the bazaar sewers then there might be a massive goblin den in the west sewers and that means…”

“Nevano!” Veleth barked. “Quit getting distracted or I’m taking the fork.”

“Right! Leave my fork alone.” Nevano said, poking at the map with the fork. “As I was saying, I propose that we divide into four groups. Three of the groups will go through the bazaar sewers and rendezvous with the Ordinators in the Great Bazaar. One group will stay in the bazaar with the Ordinators and hold it against whatever comes at them. The other two groups will then split off and clear the temple district and Godsreach. When all three districts are cleared, a signal will be given and the Ordinators will drop the barrier and all four groups will converge on Brindisi Dorom from all sides and clear the plaza out. Once the city is clear of undead and possessed Ordinators, we can then make a plan on what to do about the palace.”

“Do you know how long it’ll take to get that many men through a hole in the ground?”

“With the Ordinators refusing to drop the barrier, do you have a better idea?” 

Garil paced back and forth. “They’re all dead or possessed…except for a dozen of them who are so gods damned stubborn they would rather kill themselves than be useful. Stupid fetchers. Now our only option is to shove a few hundred men through a knot hole or else this entire section of country side will be a giant damned graveyard.”

“Not to mention you will lose Adrusa, Vvarden and possibly Stros, destroy the supply route to Firewatch and Necrom, and the reputation of both the Ordinators and the Redoran will become mud.” Nevano listed off. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re an annoying little shite?”

“I’ve heard it once or twice before.” Nevano smirked. “But let’s face it, if I wasn’t here to do a good portion of the leg work, you would be arse deep in dead Ordinators and no idea how to fix it.”

Garil growled at him but Nevano was unbothered. By now he had figured out that General Garil was all gruff bark with very little bite, especially to those who were useful. Nevano was nothing if not useful. He already knew what Garil was going to do, as did Garil. This was merely making it all official, a definitive verbal agreement. 

“I’ll lead the group that will charge in through the southern gates. Churl, you will lead the men into Godsreach. My other two captains got killed in the attacks. I know Veleth can lead but can you handle a group of soldiers?”

“How hard can it be?” Nevano smirked wider as Garil’s one eye twitched. “I’ll take Almalexia’s temple. Something is telling me I’d be shoved in there first anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The veil between the living and the dead is very thin in the city. The dead can practically reach into the world of the living. You’ll be able to feel it as soon as you get close enough.”

“What’s your point?”

Nevano sighed. “Can we just cut the crap and just admit that when it comes to the really nasty or really creepy stuff I’m going to be tossed in first? That temple was home to Almalexia. Every superstitious mer you have in your ranks will fall flat on their faces if they go anywhere near that temple, especially with me around. I mean, let’s face it, who wants to be around the former home of a dead god when her killer is there? Whatever is there, I’ll go in first. Me stepping foot in that temple will probably be considered a defilement and it just makes me happy thinking about how mad it’ll make those Ordinators.”

Garil snorted. “Just…don’t say that too loudly around the Ordinators if you want their help later. However I have one concern before we give the go ahead to do anything and you can’t tell me that the thought hasn’t occurred to you too. What about the Ordinators that are possessed? Is there a way to free them? I am not to keen on just killing all of them.”

That was the one snag in Nevano’s plan and it was a big one. It had been nagging him the entire way back and, despite his best efforts, he simply couldn’t think of any way to save them. He opened his mouth to answer, to say the one thing that no one wanted to hear, but someone beat him to it. 

“I think I might have an answer to your problem.” 

Nevano nearly jumped out of his skin when the old frail voice spoke almost in his ear, the fork clattering across the map table. He heard Veleth utter a curse and felt a little bit better knowing that he wasn’t the only one taken completely by surprise. He spun around and jumped again when he found himself face to face with Auntie Glathil. 

“Who the hell is the old hag?” Garil asked irritably. He was the only one in the room who hadn’t jumped at the sudden intrusion. “Wait, aren’t you that witch Churl was bothering me about for the past few weeks? Vaermina’s rotted tits, can this can any more ridiculous?”

“That all depends on what you want to hear, general.” Auntie Glathil said. Nevano could tell she was gearing up for another one of her premonitions and cringed. That was the last thing he needed right now. 

“Spare me your fortunes, witch.” Garil growled. “All you witches like to predict death and destruction but we’re all going to die one day. If I die in that damned city, so be it. My wife might think I’m a fool but I’ll die with a sword in my hand and content that the rest of these fools with me can finish the job. Your fortune telling will only mess that up and make the fools act even more foolish. Now, do you have anything useful to add to this plan or are you here to just scare the superstitious s’wits in my ranks?”

Auntie Glathil sniffed. “I’ve actually been following those three since they left my house. I was greatly curious at what they would find. Much to my surprise I saw a great many Ordinators held under another’s possession. I came to offer help.”

“We know Andas put them under that spell but could you see what happened to him?” Nevusa asked eagerly.

“I am sorry my dear, but whatever is at the center of all this is far more powerful than I am.” The older Bosmer woman said. “Whatever resides in the palace was shrouded from my sight. Tread carefully. All I know is that it is extremely powerful and extremely dangerous.”

“But you are able to counteract the spell?”

Auntie Glathil produced four scrolls from within her robes and laid them on the table. “Gather as many of those possessed together as you can and use the scroll. It should release their minds, or at least allow them enough control back so they won’t attack you. The only real cure, of course, is to kill the caster. Find him, kill him and your Ordinators shall be free. Of course, I have no solution for those raised from the grave. Those you would do well to put our of their misery and return them to full dead.”

“Thank you very much, Auntie Glathil.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Auntie Glathil glared at the males in the room. “The rest of you would do well to learn some manners.”

“Lady, if you can teach a bunch of rough cut soldiers manners then I’ll give up my sword and take up sheep herding.” Garil spat on the floor. “Oh wait, I do that already.” With one final glare the old witch left. 

Nevano watched her go before turning to face Garil. He had a whole new respect for the gruff mer after that show. He picked up the fork again and twirled it over his fingers. “You do know she could probably put a curse on you, right?”

“You might be about the same age as I am but you got to keep your youth.” Garil pointed out. “If you ever get to experience being old, you’ll understand that there ain’t much a witch can do to you that your body hasn’t already given up already. Also, an old hag doesn’t scare you when you’ve been married to one for years and years. Anyway, we all know our roles in this. Any last questions?”

“WHERE did the fork come from?!” Nevusa burst out.

“You say one word about Sheogorath and I will nail your tongue to a board.” Garil growled at Nevano. 

Nevano felt his lips twitch at the want to say something but he stayed silent. 

XxXxXx

Later that night, after orders had been issues and the furious rush of preparations had died down to a dull roar as soldiers tried to catch what sleep they could before they all marched out in the morning, Nevano found Veleth away from all the furor, sharpening his axe. He could see the tense set of Veleth’s broad shoulders and knew that he was still trying to process all that had happened in the past few days. Nevano didn’t blame him in the slightest. A lot had happened in a short amount of time. The stress of it would have broken a lesser being. 

“Look what I found.” Nevano said, sitting next to Veleth and holding up a carved game board. 

“Chess.” Veleth gave him a half-smile. “You sure you can handle a game against me?”

“Against a Veleth? I know I don’t have a snowflake’s chance in oblivion.” Nevano said as he laid out the pieces. “But I’m pretty convinced Jorun simply cursed the pieces of his set. He always plays the black pieces and I always lose. I’m willing to stake my dignity to test that theory.”

“I’ve beaten my father before. With the white pieces, I might add.”

“Then I’m really going to lose.” Nevano grinned and held up a few bottles of sujamma. “Fortunately, I came prepared. Liquid fortification.”

They played in silence for a while, Nevano occasionally taking swigs from the bottle as he slowly, inevitably, lost. He didn’t mind though. Winning wasn’t the point of him hunting down this board and getting Veleth to play but he couldn’t play for his ultimate goal just yet. He kept close watch until finally, at the end of their first game, he saw Veleth’s shoulders relax. That was what he had been waiting for. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” He finally broke the silence as he reset the pieces. 

“To be honest? No.” Veleth said bluntly. “Don’t get me wrong, the plan is a good one, as solid a plan as one can come up with. I just think there’s still something not accounted for. Something big.”

“You too?” Nevano glanced up at him. “Glad to know I’m not the only one. Unfortunately there’s not much to be done about it. We didn’t have the time or the manpower to figure out just what that was. Just going to have to improvise along the way then.”

“Your improvisation scares me to death.”

Nevano laughed. “I can think of far worse ways to die. Disemboweled by an angry daedra, crushed by falling rocks, falling on your own weapon. Scribs. Those are just a few examples, just in case my improvisation becomes too much for you.”

“Scribs? No one has ever been killed by a scrib!”

“Therefore, it’s a worse way to die than by my legendary quick thinking in a fight.”

Veleth slapped a hand to his face and gave an exasperated moan. He grabbed an untouched bottle and started to drink straight from it. Nevano eyes went wide as he watched in utter amazement as Veleth upended the bottle and drained the entire thing in one go. He threw the empty bottle aside and slammed his queen down on the board. “Check mate.”

XxXxXx

A/N: Ok so I was still writing in the midst of finishing my presentations and I managed to blurt this one out. I needed some sort of stress release and nothing accomplishes that more than snarking at Ordinators. Or snarking in general Or a random fork. Don’t ask about the fork. No one knows where the fork came from.


	32. Inner Conflict

Chapter 31

Inner Conflict

XxXxXx

3E 427 – Mournhold, Morrowind.

City of light, city of magic!

Those were one of the first words Nevano had heard when he had been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of the palace where he had been standing in Ebonheart just moments before. Then a guard in a set of red plate armor greeted him with those words. Nevano had stared at him for a long moment, having a hard time processing those words. It had only been a week since Drelasa had allowed him to leave after months of difficult recovery, a mere three months since he had ventured into the heart of Red Mountain to face Dagoth Ur. The world seemed so incredibly different to him now. He simply couldn't see that any city could be as wondrous as the guard had said. Before anyone could say anything else to him, he quietly fled the palace and out into Mournhold.

Mournhold itself was something he had only ever read about. It was the site of many fabulous things and of many horrible things. It was rich with history; if he had brought Jorun with him, he was certain his friend would have been talking excitedly nonstop for days. As fond of his friend as he was, he probably would have tried to strangle him after a solid day of history lessons. Especially right now in his current mindset.

Drelasa hadn't wanted to let him go chase down the Dark Brotherhood. She had done everything she could to keep him in Balmora. She had argued that he wasn't fully healed from his encounter with Dagoth Ur yet but Nevano knew that that wasn't her main concern. His body was fine; it was his mind that was struggling to heal. She had been fairly alarmed at his sudden change in mood, had even written to Jorun who was still at Ghost Gate about her concerns. Nevano would never tell her that he knew about that letter. He also would never tell her that he had seen the reply. Fortunately for him though, Jorun, while also concerned, had seen what the Red Mountain region could do someone's mind. He had also seen Nevano stagger in from Red Mountain, had seen his horrible injuries, and could surmise what had happened within the bowels of the mountain. Nevano refused to tell him all that had happened in Citadel Dagoth. He simply couldn't bring himself to tell him of the horrors within that cursed place. Not now and maybe not ever. No, his mind would heal. It would simply be a matter of time.

Mournhold was hot and humid, even more so than the swamps in southern Cyrodiil. Instantly Nevano felt his skin prickle as sweat broke out on his skin but he didn't take off his hood. He was a marked man. Marked by…everyone. He suddenly felt tired and heavy as he made his way into a plaza south of the palace. Briefly he wished he had listened to Drelasa and stayed in Balmora for a little while longer but he knew that it wouldn't have made this journey any easier. No, he was where he needed to be.

The plaza was a grand place, surrounded by greenery with a well-paved walk surrounding a massive statue. A rather opulent plaque pronounced it to be Brindisi Dorum. Named for the duke who ruled Mournhold during the Four Score War and died when Mehrunes Dagon destroyed the city. Nevano knew nothing about the Four Score War. Jorun would, but Jorun wasn't here to enlighten him.

The statue caught his attention though. Sweeping walkways surrounded by a pool with spouting fountains led up to the massive marble structure. Nevano stepped up close and looked up. He instantly recognized Mehrunes Dagon. He knew the daedra well enough, as any good Dunmer should, to recognize them by sight. He didn't recognize the woman but Nerevar certainly did. Almalexia. That was the name that drifted through his mind like a leaf on the wind. He took a closer look at the marble woman. So this was the female aspect of the Tribunal, the wife of Nerevar and the consort of Vivec. A myriad of emotions flickered through him but none of them were his own. He himself felt nothing looking at this strange woman. She was a stranger to him. He felt nothing other than the strange feeling that he would probably get to know her before all this was said and done. Such was the fate of a marked man though.

He turned away from the statue and made his way to one of the walls that surrounded the plaza. This whole city was blocked off by thick high walls, making him feel a little closed in. He needed to get above the walls, above everyone else so he could get his bearings and even himself out. His right arm and leg ached as he crawled up the wall. They had been badly broken in his flight from Red Mountain. They had healed well but there was still an ache deep in the bone that reminded him that he had only just healed up from rather devastating injuries.

Up on the wall, above the rest of the city, there was a breeze, a breath of fresh air that was blocked off down below. With a sigh of relief Nevano sat down, resting his aching limbs. He was more out of shape than he thought. It would be a bit before his old strength returned. He would need to be careful until then.

He looked down at the city below and memorized the layout. Despite the over abundance of walls, the city wasn't overly complicated in its layout like Vivec City was. Rather, it was set in a circular pattern, sectioned off, much like the Imperial City. Unlike the Imperial City, though, Mournhold was very obvious in its neighborhoods; dwellings and shops were sharply divided and did not mingle with each other.

Thinking about the Imperial City invariably led his thoughts towards home, making his heart clench in his chest with a mixture of longing and trepidation. He missed home, missed the simple life of contracts and having fun in between those contracts. His life had revolved around training, pulling pranks with his guild mates, pushing Modryn's temper to the very edge, getting into trouble and, when he was out of money or bored, picking up another contract and setting off on the road again. At the time it had seemed a full life but now so simple. There was a comfort in the simplicity, something that the citizens walking below him took for granted. He envied them that. For him, it was gone forever. He was the Nerevarine now, Nerevar reborn, the ageless hero of Morrowind. He was supposed to feel some sort of pride, wasn't he? That was what the stories said he was supposed to feel. This was supposed to be a grand thing. Instead he felt like he had been cast out of the normal society he had worked so hard to become a part of and was now some sort of animal everyone wanted to gawk at or pet. So, yes, he was jealous of the normal lives of the people below.

Nevano stayed up on the wall for a few more hours until the sun rose high in the sky and the heat became a bit much even for him. He stood up, brushed himself off and started mapping his path down. As much as he wanted to remain up on his perch, away from the drudgery down below, he knew that he couldn't. It was time to go to work.

XxXxXx

4E 201, 22nd Hearthfire – Adrusa, Morrowind

He was never drinking again. Ever. Especially if Nevano was around. The headache he was now nursing was just not worth it. He wasn't a big drinker to begin with since it usually made it impossible to control the paranoia from his gut. Why he thought downing that entire bottle of sujamma was a good idea he didn't know. He blamed it on Nevano; it was the only thing that made sense. Veleth wouldn't say it out loud though. Nevano would laugh and would be irritatingly smug the rest of the day unless he could find a way to knock the obnoxious mer down a peg or two.

The soldiers were all up and scrambling in last minute preparations to march out. Veleth watched them with a critical eye, noting the nervousness and tension making their movements just a touch faster and twitchier than they intended. They didn't talk much, anxiety gluing their tongues to the roofs of their mouths. Veleth didn't like seeing that. They were getting too nervous, too wound up, and they hadn't even set out yet. He sighed mentally. He knew how to get them to relax. It would be at his expense…but it needed to be done. Fear like this would only build up and lead to mistakes. They couldn't afford to make any mistakes at this point.

He found Nevano sitting in a tree, watching the activity with a mixture of curiosity, bewilderment and a little bit of disdain. It occurred to Veleth right then that Nevano had no experience with this sort of thing. The smaller mer had spent a good deal of time with the Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil but even all the members of the guild put together wouldn't equal half of the numbers that were in Adrusa. Even then, Nevano preferred to work alone, had even admitted that he had actively avoided all military bodies during both the Argonian Invasion and the Great War. This was all brand new to him It made sense why he would look a little lost in the midst of this chaos.

"They make a lot of noise." The smaller mer said by way of greeting.

Veleth sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, his head giving a hard throb as if to remind him his headache was still there. "Tell me about it…"

One of Nevano's eyebrows shot up and Veleth knew that he had fully caught his attention. "Are you hung over, oh mighty Bull?"

"I blame you, you know." Veleth spoke the damning words, regretting them the instant they left his tongue.

A grin slowly stretched across Nevano's face. "My fault, hmm? You know what? I'll accept that."

That wasn't exactly the response Veleth had been expecting. It made him regret his decision even more. "You will?"

"Yup." Nevano dropped out of the tree and landed lightly next to him. "I'll play along."

"Excuse me?"

Nevano patted him on the shoulder. "You're a good commander, offering your dignity to raise moral. I've never had an opportunity just handed to me like this before. You aren't just dangling a carrot; you are practically force-feeding it to me. Of course I'm not going to pass it up, no matter how pathetically obvious it is, but I will keep with the rules."

Veleth stared at him, dumbfounded. How had the little fetcher figured it out? He had positive that Nevano would have simply taken the bait for what it was, not taken it and tied him up with the line and walked away eating the damn bait!

"So, in keeping with the game…" Nevano slapped something into his hand before turning and running off into the crowd. "The mighty Bull of Stros has the alcohol tolerance of a little girl!"

Veleth stared after the outrageous mer. He was going to give Nevano a free pass but…no. No, no, no. That was the last time he offered himself up like that. He should have known better. He looked down at the object Nevano had handed him.

It was a fork. The same gods damned fork Nevano had been playing around with yesterday. Veleth felt his left eye twitch as he stared at the fork. That did it. He was shoving Nevano into that fetid pool at the bottom of the sewer caverns.

Nevano mercifully left him alone as they marched towards Mournhold, which suited him just fine. He was still mildly irritated about earlier and he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't leave the smug little mer tied to a tree somewhere. He had to grudgingly admit that it did have the intended consequences though. Moral was boosted up and the soldiers went forward more willingly. For that he was happy. However he had other things on his mind, like the heavy warning he was receiving from his gut.

Unlike when the they had first entered the sewer caverns, this warning was telling him that whatever threat they were about to face was serious, potentially too much even for the force now marching with them. It wasn't the Ordinators – that part of the plan would go off without a hitch. No, there was something else that was making his nose twitch. Something was lurking within that city that would make even the most hardened warriors run with their tails tucked between their legs. Except Nevano. Nevano was the wild card that would give any strategist a nervous tic. He very simply didn't run, didn't follow the rules and, most maddeningly of all, didn't follow any sort of plan, not even his own. Veleth knew that before all was said and done Nevano was going to run off and do something extraordinarily brave and extraordinarily stupid. Then the mer was going to justify it by saying he knew everything would work out because Veleth's "magic danger predicting gut" had told him so. Veleth had never met a more infuriating mer. It was like Nevano knew more about his "gift", as it was often called, than Veleth himself did. Then again, Nevano had known that gut long before Veleth was even born.

He remembered the first time he had ever felt an inkling of danger from his gut. He had been young, very young. He had disobeyed his parents' rule of staying within the city walls and had gone out to play among the rocky hills to the west of the city. Usually a pack of children his age would have been sneaking out with him but that particular time he had been alone. He had been pouncing from rock to rock, lost in the imaginative world that only a child could come up with, when a feeling he had never felt before bloomed in his stomach, effectively halting him on the spot. He had clung to the rock, eyes wide, trying to make sense of the strange feeling. It wasn't fear, though it certainly inspired a degree of anxiety. It made his ears and nose work better, picking up sounds and smells he had never noticed before. His eyes had picked up the slightest movements in the rough mountain grasses. He had slowly released his iron grip on the rock and sat up. He couldn't tell just what had caused all this until he looked to the rock that he had been about to jump to and saw a snake coiled up, partly hidden by a patch of grass. One bite from that snake and there was a good chance he would have never made it home. He had never told his parents about that particular incident but it was a lesson he had never forgotten.

As the years had gone by he had learned to read his gut better though he had resented the paranoia when he was younger. Recently he noticed his resentment was fading, more so now that he was traveling with Nevano and realizing that not only was all the stories he had ever heard were true, but he could now see why his father had done some of the things that had branded him as a bit strange. Jorun had simply been protecting his friend and his son. How could he be mad at his father for that? He sighed as they approached the nondescript cave entrance. When they were finished here there was a long over-due conversation waiting for him in Blacklight.

True to Garil's prediction, it did take a long while to get all the Redoran soldiers through the sewers and into the ruins of the city. True to his word though, he did shove Nevano into the disgusting pool, resulting in a hilarious sputtering fit from the smaller mer and Veleth learning a few new elaborate curses in Velothi. When they finally made it through to the city above, Nerus and his small crew watched with wide eyes as soldier after soldier climbed up from the sewers. Veleth resisted the urge to sneer at him. The Ordinator was, as he had coined it years ago, "prone to acts of stupid". However, Veleth kept his thoughts to himself. Before he and Nevano had set out, his father had pulled him aside. "Whatever happens out there, do not think too badly of them, Modyn." Jorun had advised him. "The years have not been kind to anyone and the Ordinators have always been prone to act brashly in their zeal to do right." Veleth sighed. The stupid fetcher might have made a bad situation worse but…he had done his best and had at least thought to try to protect the rest of Morrowind. Veleth would do Nerus that one favor of staying silent.

Veleth pulled a few mages aside as they came through the sewer grate. "Go take over for those Ordinators. I don't think they can hold that barrier for much longer. Best to not alert the whole city to our presence just yet."

They nodded and Veleth watched as the relieved Ordinators simply sunk to the ground, nearly unconscious, as the Redoran mages took over. The barrier crackled with a renewed strength as fresh energy was poured into it, making the mages hair stand up on end from the sheer power.

"Easy." He advised. "You're holding it just for little while. You aren't powering the Ghost Fence." They gave him a bit of a sheepish look as they reined in their power a bit. Veleth shook his head. They had been showing off, trying to prove that they were just as good, if not better, than the Ordinators. Possessed or not, the Ordinators were still an elite force and there was some envy shimmering under the surface. When all was said and done, there would be a lot of bragging going on, a lot of bruised egos on the Ordinators' behalf and a lot of puffed up pride in the Redoran ranks. Veleth didn't envy Garil's job of keeping the peace later.

"Nerus!" One of the Ordinators called out, pointing across the district.

"Don't yell, you idiot!" Nerus hissed. "What is it?"

"They're coming."

Veleth looked down the lane in alarm. The gate leading to Brindisi Dorum had opened and Ordinators were coming in. Only half of the Redoran soldiers had made it through the sewer grate and the small group of unpossessed Ordinators were too exhausted to be much use. Not to mention the sound of fighting would undoubtedly attract the attention of every being in Brindisi Dorum and they couldn't afford that right now.

Veleth looked around and found Nevano intently watching the incoming line of trouble from on top a half crumbled wall. "Nevano, do you think you can sneak over there and close the gate without being seen?" He asked.

"How did you know my secret hobby of sneaking around unseen?"

"Nevano…you either sneak over there or I will throw you over there. Take your pick." Veleth growled through clenched teeth, really not in the mood to deal with Nevano's strange sense of humor.

"On my way." Nevano said quickly. "As soon as I close the gate, use that scroll. Time to see if the damn things work or not."

While Nevano snuck over to the gate, Veleth made his way into the remains of the buildings, using the rubble to hide until the gate could be closed. He had to protect Nerus and his men as well as the sewer grate where the Redoran soldiers were still climbing through. Nevano he knew would be fine. The resourceful mer had already stood up to gods and won. He could get the gate closed without a problem. Veleth's job was to keep this from becoming a bloodbath until he could free the Ordinators, if he could. A small part of him was greatly disappointed with this plan though. It would much rather fight the Ordinators. They were formidable opponents; a great way to showcase his skills as a fighter. Veleth pressed the gloved heel of his palm to his forehead, willing away the feeling. They were not here to kill. They were here to rescue. He was a little disturbed that this dark force in him was hoping that the small chance that the scrolls wouldn't work would come to pass and they would have to resort to killing the Ordinators.

A loud clang shook him out of his dark thoughts. He looked up to see the gate slam shut and Nevano slide several polearms through the handles to keep those in the plaza from opening the gate again. The few dozen possessed Ordinators barely seemed to notice. They were hunting, rooting through the ruins looking for…well, Veleth wasn't entirely certain just what they were looking for but he was willing to bet that the small army of free willed mer behind him were high on the list. He stepped out from the ruins and let out a shrill whistle, instantly capturing every Ordinator's attention.

"C'mon, you sorry fetchers." He said. "Come get me."

He figured he could safely assume he had their full, undivided attention when a small forest of weapons were brandished, all pointed at him. That was exactly what he had hoped for. He pulled the scroll from his belt and unrolled it. Unlike most scrolls where he would have to read strange arcane words, if he could, and hope he didn't accidentally curse himself, the scroll immediately started to glow on its own and a blue light shot outwards in a ring that enveloped much of the bazaar. The possessed Ordinators froze in place, their eyes going from a cold empty stare to having a spark of life in them. They slowly lowered their weapons. The one closest to Veleth looked over at him.

"What…how did you…?" He stammered. "The voice…it's gone. It's gone!"

"What voice?" Veleth asked.

"The voice!" The Ordinator said excitedly. "The voice that…it echoed in my head. I remember that. But I can't remember…I can't remember who it was."

"Damn." Veleth muttered. He had been hoping to get some more solid answers about what was going on. Something had happened to Andas. By all accounts the man was an excellent warrior but he did not have the magical prowess to suddenly turn into an evil magister and put every Ordinator under his command under a rather powerful mind possession spell. There was something else out there, the same thing that his gut was warning him about. His brief flash of hope to have any sort of idea of what that might have been was dashed as he watched the group of newly freed Ordinators hold their heads in their hands and try to make sense of their new reality. He would get nothing he didn't already know out of them.

"Well, I guess we stick to our original plan then." Nevano appeared at his elbow. He was not at all surprised that Nevano had overheard. "Maybe something will pop up a little further along the way that will give us some answers."

"Maybe." Veleth said.

"I hate to leave you with the boring post but you're stronger than me and Nevusa." Nevano said. "If something goes sideways you are the only one with the strength to drop the barrier, meet up with Garil and finish the plan."

"Strategically, it's sound logic." Veleth said. "Personally, I hate it. But that doesn't matter. Just don't get killed. We got a lot more to do after this, remember?"

"Your mother will bring me back from the dead just to kill me again herself if I did something stupid like that." Nevano snorted. "I'm more afraid of her than I am of anything here so, no, I won't get killed."

Veleth finally smiled. Nevano wasn't exaggerating. His mother would do something like that. She was a force to be reckoned with. He never really had to wonder just who was in charge in his parents' household. The answer was obvious and his father was a wise enough man to fully acknowledge that. "Well, good luck."

"You too." Nevano slapped him on the shoulder and took off, rounding up the soldiers who had finally finished coming through the sewers.

Veleth rounded up his own men and watched as the group moved out, going through the gates at the other end of the bazaar, towards Almalexia's Temple. The gates slammed shut behind the last Redoran soldier, leaving Veleth alone with his group of soldiers and Ordinators. It was quiet, very quiet. Far too quiet. This should be the easy post, the boring post. Veleth's gut was in a near frenzy.

He started to walk around, to take a quick patrol to convince his paranoia that all was truly quiet within the bazaar but he hadn't made it four steps when he heard a scrabbling noise coming from the sewer. He stopped and stared at it, his ears twitched as the grate that led to the sewer jumped a little.

"Sir…everyone made it through, right?" A soldier asked nervously.

Yes, yes they had all come through. Then, with horrible clarity, Veleth remembered Nevano talking about how all the sewers beneath the city were connected to each other. He also remembered Nevano talking about how the west sewers were probably all one massive goblin den by now, seeing as how no one was there to control the population anymore. When he, Nevano and Nevusa had gone through the sewers, they hadn't disturbed much, hadn't made that much noise, but the absence of the durzogs couldn't have gone unnoticed. When hundreds of soldiers had gone marching through, creating a massive racket, the goblins had put the two and two together. Goblins weren't the smartest creatures around but they weren't completely stupid.

"Set up defensive positions! Archers set up on whatever high position you can find and be prepared to shoot whatever comes through that grate!" Veleth snapped out, slipping into his old commander role with ease. "These Ordinators are too exhausted to help, get them in the back."

"Sir?"

"Move NOW!" Veleth ordered. "We drew the attention of a goblin den. They think we are in their territory. We came to take back this city and clearing out goblins is going to be a part of that it seems. The good news is you don't have to hold back. Kill whatever crawls through that hole."

By now he could hear them, scrabbling against the grate and bickering at each other in the screeches and growls that made up the goblin languages. It sounded as if there were a hundred of the vicious pests trying to bubble up from underground. Veleth felt a bolt of eagerness surge through him. This was a decent enough challenge. Goblins were rabidly territorial beasts and no easy task to kill in large numbers, especially when riled up like this. Even with the sizeable group at his back, Veleth knew it was going to be a fight but this time he could paint the streets red with blood. Killing them would please…

He stopped himself. Please who? What the hell was wrong with him? He had been increasingly bloodthirsty ever since he had had that dream a few days ago. He had been eager to fight, even looking for the opportunity, even more so than when he had been a hotheaded young soldier eager to kill Argonians. When he had fought those durzogs he had felt a rush he had never felt before in a fight. It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and he had wanted more. When he had seen the Ordinators, the feeling had returned, this time the feral aggression was stronger. It hadn't been happy he had shoved it aside. He wouldn't be able to do so now.

Goblins burst out of the sewer entrance, crawling out like ants from a disturbed mound. Veleth felt rage bubble up along with the goblins, making his heart pound in his chest and his hands clench on the hilt of his axe. It was time to finally satisfy his bloodlust.

XxXxXx

The gates clanged heavily behind them as they stepped into the once lush park that surrounded Almalexia's temple. It was all just as burned and dead and grey as the rest of the city now. The birds that once chirped merrily were long since gone. Any animal with sense would have long since left. The only alternative was to be as dead as the rest of the city.

Nevano sighed as he looked around. He had fully expected to find it this way but actually seeing it didn't lessen the blow. He and Almalexia had had a…complicated interaction but there were other people here that had made Mournhold a memorable place for him. He stopped and stared up at the temple. It was oddly intact, worn and dirty perhaps with no one around to care for it anymore but intact. Then he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He felt like he was being watched. He nearly jumped when he saw two High Ordinators standing guard at the doors. They were standing so still they might as well have been statues, their pale armor blending in with the white walls of the temple. No wonder he hadn't noticed them at first. They made no move towards the host below them, indeed they hadn't even drawn their weapons, but they were looking right at Nevano. He watched them for a moment before nodded to himself. He got the message. He knew what he needed to do.

"Nevusa." He said, his voice sounded odd in the vast empty silence. "Be a dear and take the men that were supposed to be with me and go on ahead."

"What?" She followed his gaze and instantly caught on to his train of thought. "Are you MAD?!"

"Probably." Nevano said. "But I'm expected. Extras are not welcomed to this particular party."

"Expected by who? What party? What are you talking about?" Nevusa exclaimed in exasperation.

"Just go on ahead. I'll meet up with you in Godsreach once I'm finished here." Nevano never once took his eyes off the temple. "Don't worry about me. Just keep with the plan."

"Nevano…"

"GO!"

He didn't mean to yell at her but he needed her to understand that this was something she just couldn't help him with. This was his fight and his alone. Fortunately, she argued no further and signaled the soldiers to follow her. Most of them seemed rather relieved to avoid going near the temple. Nevano supposed some superstitions just refused to die though, in this case, they just might be right. He waited until they had all gone through the gate and the heavy echo of it closing had faded before starting up the steps to the temple. The guards, both very obviously possessed, clanged a clenched fist against their armored chests as he passed by. A rather warm greeting for beings that had been almost indiscriminately attacking and killing everything around them, but it confirmed his suspicions that he was expected here. Whatever was controlling them wanted him here. He could feel Nerevar stir in him, as coiled and tense as a cornered cat. He understood his tension; his own emotions were an exact mirror of Nerevar's.

"These aren't controlled by the same being as the others." Nerevar's tense voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

Nevano felt his ear twitch. He simply couldn't get used to the feeling that Nerevar was physically right there. "I can tell." He murmured. "They aren't acting the same. The entire district feels different from the bazaar. Can you tell what it is?"

"I don't think I need to tell you." Nerevar said. "You already have an idea."

Nevano bit his tongue as several testy replies flitted through his mind. He didn't need to say them really – Nerevar could feel his flash of irritation – but he held his tongue because Nerevar was right; he did have an idea who was controlling this area. The answer was obvious.

He walked through the reception area of the temple, unsurprised to find more High Ordinators standing at the doors. Two blocked the doors leading to the other areas of the temple while two more flanked the double doors leading to Almalexia's chambers. They all greeted him as silently and respectfully as the first two and made no move to bar his way to the inner sanctum.

"What? No challenging the heretic?" Nevano asked. The Ordinators stared blankly at him. "Never thought I'd find myself missing the rabid barking…"

"Be careful what you wish for." Nerevar admonished. Nevano rolled his eyes and went through the doors.

The inner sanctum was absolutely packed with both Ordinators and High Ordinators, all bowed down with their foreheads touching the floor. Nevano carefully stepped around them, his eyes focused on the bright golden light in the center of the room. A sense of longing entered his heart, increasing with intensity with every step he took. It was urging him to seek out the warmth from the center of the room. It offered acceptance, peace and love. It wanted him to love it back. It needed him to love it back. It was tugging at him, pestering him. Far from inspiring the adoration it wanted, Nevano merely felt annoyed. It reminded him of needy, clingy girls who held onto him in the morning despite him making it clear that he was a one-night mer only. It rankled him to no end, allowing him to reject the compellation. He gave a grim smile as he broke free of the tightly packed Ordinators and stepped up to the dais. He had caught the source off guard by refusing. It hadn't been rejected before, had expected him to run to it. It was both saddened and angered but not enough to punish him for his transgression. Not yet at least.

He looked up at it, completely unsurprised to see the "host" of this little get-together. Both he and Nerevar had been correct. He wasn't exactly happy at being proven correct in this particular instance. Nerevar especially wasn't happy. Nevano didn't blame him one bit.

Golden eyes met golden eyes. Two halves stood together again, though on two different planes of existence. The light and the dark, the king and the queen, the betrayer and the betrayed.

"Hello Almalexia." Nevano said. "It's been a long, long time and I can't say I'm glad to see you again."

XxXxXx

A/N: Holy crap I just passed the 200,000-word mark. Woohoo milestones!

I promise I didn't abandon you or give up on this story. It still is very much active. I have just been without internet for over two weeks. It's been almost three actually. It's been a living hell. Something apparently went kaput at my provider's servers and every single customer was without internet so instead of the super fast service I usually get, it took them weeks to get out here. Then when THAT was fixed, something else failed and I had to battle to get them back out again. Moral of the story, always call the technician directly. To top it all off, it has been raining near nonstop. It's so wet the trees are having a hard time staying vertical. Already my neighbor lost a gorgeous pecan tree and I lost a hackberry tree (I wasn't nearly as upset about that…) and now there's another tree that I've been keeping watch on that is threatening to fall. It's wet outside and internet-less on the inside. It's been a rough summer in Texas so far y'all! Anyway, the next chapter is going to be a nice long one and it's already well underway thanks to this internet delay. Thanks for bearing with me!


	33. Nerevar's Mercy

Chapter 32

Nerevar’s Mercy

XxXxXx

3E 437 – Mournhold, Morrowind

Despite its rather dour sounding name, Mournhold was a vivacious city. People were always outside, the heat not seeming to bother them, to shop and catch up on the latest gossip. Even the market district of the Imperial City was not as lively as the capital city of Morrowind. It was the city of light, city of magic…and the city of gatherings. 

Nevano felt disconnected as he walked through the busy streets. He could feel himself brush against people as he wound his way through the crowded streets, could feel the sweat roll down his back as the heat bore down on him like an oppressive blanket and could feel the street beneath his worn boots but he couldn’t focus on anything. There was too much noise, too much movement and too many people brushing up against him for his mind to handle so, in an act of self-preservation, it completely shut all stimulation out. He was a mindless thing pushing his way along, like one of the machinations that wandered the halls of dwemer ruins. He could barely hear the animated chatter around him. A few people protesting as he shoved them aside, but it was merely a muted buzz in the back of his mind. He really wanted to curl up in a corner and shut everything out but he was searching for…something. He really wasn’t sure what. 

“Hey!” An Imperial man took special offense to having an elbow shoved in his back and spun around to face his assailant, grabbing Nevano’s arm before he could get away. Nevano stopped and looked at him. He must have had a murderous look on his face because the Imperial quickly dropped his arm as if it burned him. “You look like you need a drink.”

“Don’t we all.” Nevano said, trying to quirk up one corner of his mouth to show he really had no intention of killing the man, especially now that he had let go of his arm. It felt more like a grimace than anything but it still had the desired affect fortunately. 

“You’re new in town aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?”

“You have ash clinging to you for one.” The man said, causing Nevano to glance down at himself. Sure enough, there was ash settled in the folds of his armor and clothing. Something Nevano had come to find perfectly normal, even expected, while living in Vvardenfell but it was not something normally seen on the mainland. “Look, there’s a tavern just down the street here. On the left. Called the Winged Guar. If you’re from the island you’re going to need a drink or two to get the ash from your throat.”

Nevano nodded and turned down the street the man had indicated.

“Hey, wait! I thought all travel from Vvardenfell was being restricted…”

Nevano didn’t stop or answer the man. The less the man knew, the better. For everyone. Besides, Nevano now had a bit of a goal, allowing his mind to focus with far more clarity than he had been able to muster a few minutes ago. He wasn’t about to let that focus go to waste answering stupid mundane questions. 

It wasn’t hard to pick out the Winged Guar. In stark contrast to the usually conservative Dunmer architecture around it, the tavern was a bit brighter with a perky shade of green paint on it and some decorative shrubs planted around it. Nevano knew the shrubs served more than one purpose. Not only did they distinctively indicate the tavern itself, but if a drunk fell off the short flight of stairs, there was a bit of a cushioned landing so they wouldn’t kill themselves. Not outright anyway. Inside the tavern was rather busy for as early in the day as it was but Nevano noted there was less drinking and more talking going on. Still, no one bothered him. They were used to strangers apparently, which suited him perfectly. He slid onto a stool and ordered a drink. 

He had always enjoyed a drink every now and then – it was practically a requirement back home in the Fighters Guild to drink with your guild brothers and sisters after a successful contract – but the feeling of the burning liquid sliding down his throat gave him a dose of reality he hadn’t felt since…since he had been thrown into prison in Cyrodiil. He threw the rest of the sujamma back, nearly choking when the burning seemed to strike him in the face but he managed to catch himself before he coughed the drink back up again. He sat still a moment, considering the hot pool in the pit of his stomach, the slight buzzing in his head and the rough numbness in his throat and nose. Slowly he felt the tension in his shoulders relax and the annoying chatter in the tavern dulled into a pleasant buzz he could easily deal with. He dropped a few coins on the counter and got another drink. Drelasa would not approve of this, not in the slightest, but as the second drink joined the first in his stomach, Nevano found that he couldn’t bring himself to care over much. This was a feeling he could get used to. 

“The High Ordinators are grumpy. More than usual anyway.” Nevano didn’t know why his keen ears picked up that particular line of conversation amid a sea of mundane talk but he didn’t fight it. Trust your gut and all that. Jorun would be proud.

“What doesn’t make one of those fetchers grumpy?” The tavern patron’s companion huffed back, slightly muffled in a mug as he took a swing of his drink. “What’s got them feathers ruffled this time?”

“Something about goblins in the sewers, Helseth deliberately testing his limits with our Lady and now some stranger arrived from Vvardenfell with rumors of the Dark Brotherhood snapping at his heels.” Oh. That was why his ears had narrowed in on this string of conversation. Goblins didn’t interest him. Helseth irritating Almalexia was slightly amusing but nothing he felt like involving himself in. However, he could easily guess that the stranger they were talking about was him. Word certainly traveled fast but then again, rumors were the only things consumed faster than booze in taverns.

“That would do it, aye.” The second said. There was a pause as he took a deep drink. “Dark Brotherhood, you said? Poor sodding fetcher is probably dead already. No one escapes them. Those n’wah are scum…but effective scum. Did I ever tell you about the time I escaped a Morag Tong writ by sleeping with the prettiest assassin you've ever seen?”

"If you ever saw an assassin you'd piss yourself, you stupid fetcher."

Nevano stood up abruptly and left, almost repelled out of the building by the talk of his supposed mortality. Yes, he should be dead. He should be dead many times over, but he wasn’t. He was never going to die, not unless he let someone kill him or ran a sword through his own gut. He didn’t want to hear about death right now. He didn’t want to think about his cursed gift from Dagoth Ur. He wanted to kill the Dark Brotherhood assassins after him and gain back a small bit of freedom. At least those two had given him a small clue. A High Ordinator. They had mentioned a High Ordinator. Nevano half-heartedly wished he had stayed to ask about that but the feeling was short lived. The Ordinators in Vivec City were very easy to spot in their distinctive armor that they never allowed anyone outside the order to wear. How hard could it be to find a High Ordinator?

As it turned out, it was even easier spotting a High Ordinator than it was picking out the normal ones. Pale armor that was so ridiculously ornate it was on the verge of being useless with an equally ornate ebony scimitar at the hip that was most decidedly not useless. One thing that was the same was the presence around them. Aloof, deadly, forbidding, frightening enough that people gave them a wide berth but not so inefficient that people avoided them entirely. They knew their job and did it well, Nevano had to admit. Sometimes a little too well. Keeping a wary eye on that weapon, Nevano cleared his throat, trying, and failing, to keep his heart from jumping slightly when the pale, expressionless mask turned towards him. 

"I heard you could tell me about the Dark Brotherhood presence here in the city." Nevano blurted out before he lost his nerve. It wasn't that long ago he had been chased through the streets of Vivec by a group of Ordinators and this High Ordinator was twice as intimidating as the ones on Vvardenfell. It didn't help that the armored mer stayed silent as his red eyes, hidden far back in the mask, studied Nevano with a distinctive air of disdain. 

"I need to find where they are hiding." Nevano said. "I've already killed four assassins in two different attempts to kill me. I'm rather sick of it. I need to find them so I can get them off my back once and for all." That finally sparked a bit of interest. The Ordinator lifted his chin as he considered Nevano a bit more carefully. Nevano waited, holding his breath. 

“Go talk to Fedris Hler.” The Ordinator finally said, nodding at one of the massive gates to the northwest. Then he looked away, effectively ending the conversation. Nevano let out the breath he had been holding and beat a hasty retreat before the Ordinator decided to pay closer attention to him. He could have sworn that, unlike Vvardenfell's Ordinators, most of the High Ordinator's equipment was enchanted. The air seemed electrified around the temple guard but if his gear was enchanted, it was so expertly done that Nevano couldn't tell just by looking. However, he wasn't going to stick around to find out. He took his cue and quickly left. 

The gate the Ordinator had indicated led to a beautiful, well-maintained park. Birds flitted in and out of the trees that lined the walks and butterflies danced over the carefully cultivated flowers. Nevano felt the tension bleed from his shoulders as he walked through the relaxed park. It was nice to find a oasis of peace in a chaotic world. Eventually all the paths led to a massive white building that swept up into the sky like wings while white towers twisted up to the heavens with it. Nevano stared up at it with wide eyes. Vivec's palace was impressive but this temple, and he knew it had to be Almalexia's temple, made his golden palace look like a cheap lump of metal and stone. 

"Can I help you, my child?"

Nevano nearly jumped out of his skin when a Dunmer women in blue robes seemed to appear from the shadows of the temple. "Sorry, I just...I'm looking for Fedris Hler."

"Oh, he is just inside the temple, child." She said kindly. "Go right on in."

Carefully Nevano pushed open the big ornate doors to the temple. In stark contrast to the bright airy nature of the exterior, the inside was dark and forbidding. Thick rugs and tapestries on the floor and walls muffled every sound. There was a certain feeling in the air, so thick Nevano felt it like a second skin. He couldn't quite tell what it was but it made him uncomfortable. 

"Leave your weapons by the door."

For the second time in less than five minutes, Nevano found himself nearly leaping out of his skin. He spun around and found that he was being watched by a mer in a plain brown robe who was frowning at him disapprovingly. Nevano wasn't fooled for a moment by the plain dress. He could see glints of green armor hidden underneath the robe. This mer with the cold eyes, scarred face and tattered robe was dressed in glass armor. Not something most priests would wear. Slowly Nevano put his sword and Bonebiter by the door. 

"The dagger hidden in your boot as well please." Definitely not a priest. "Thank you. Now, how may I help you?"

"I'm looking for Fedris Hler."

"I am Fedris Hler and you are...? Ahh yes...you're the one recently arrived in Mournhold from Vvardenfell. I was told of your arrival." The cold mer said. Again, Nevano had to wonder how the hell word traveled so fast. He was starting to get suspicious that he was being watched far more closely than he initially thought. It irritated him. He was going to have to be more careful. "I understand you have some problems with the Dark Brotherhood. An interesting group...and usually rather effective. I'm surprised you're still alive. Perhaps you have potential, or they sent incompetents. Either way I'm not sure you..." Before he could finish, an acolyte quietly stepped forward and whispered something in Hler's ear. "Pardon me one moment."

Nevano stared after Hler as he disappeared deeper into the temple, careful to keep his face devoid of emotion. He couldn't fully read the mer but he got the distinct feeling that the less he said, the better. He wasn't sure what about the temple was making him so uncomfortable but he wanted to press himself into a corner to protect his back while he waited. Maybe it was because this was the home of a god. Nevano didn’t have much experience with gods. In fact, his whole life he had been blissfully ignorant of the gods, both aedra and daedra. If anything, he would have lived the rest of his life spurning the gods entirely. This past year he had gotten a rather rude introduction to gods and their follies though, technically, Almalexia wasn’t even a god anymore. He had seen to that when he had destroyed the Heart of Lorkhan. She was mortal now. The oldest female mortal living on this plane of existence. Nevano nearly snorted out loud when he thought about that. She was nothing more than an old woman. 

He was having a merry time musing up every unattractive feature she could have when Fedris Hler returned and wordlessly beckoned him to follow him into the inner sanctuary, where a light shone from underneath the door. 

"Almalexia." Nerevar murmured before retreating again. Nevano felt a pang of pity for him. This couldn't be easy on his mental roommate. If he remembered his history right, she had once been Nerevar's wife. Then she became Vivec's consort. That was a level of cruelty Nevano wouldn't even wish on his worst enemy. 

The doors swung open and what Nevano saw was decidedly not an ugly old woman, not in the slightest. He nearly choked on his own tongue when he took in the font of beauty before him. 

She was nothing like the statue he had seen in the plaza. That statue diminished her loveliness to the point of making her look plain. The statue didn’t show her flawless gold skin or the glossy red hair that flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her clothes, if there was enough cloth to qualify them as clothing, left almost nothing to the imagination, allowing Nevano to take in every delicious curve and fine plane of her body. If there was ever a perfect female form, Almalexia was it. She was something that any hot-blooded male would fantasize about. 

‘So this was your queen?’ Nevano thought, knowing Nerevar could hear him loud and clear. ‘She is…’

Nevano never got to finish. Almalexia turned his gaze on him and froze him, both physically and mentally, in place. Her eyes, a hawkish gold much like his own, pierced him to his very soul, making him feel completely naked in front of her. His breath froze in his throat and he felt as if his heart would explode from the pressure of something squeezing the very life out of him. 

It was gone in an instant, her eyes softening minutely as she smiled at him. The breath that had caught in his throat left in him in a huff, his heart pounding in alarm. In that instant Nevano’s opinion of her changed. Deep in her eyes there was a spark of…something. He couldn’t explain what it was but it sent warnings bells off in his head. She was no longer the avatar of feminine perfection; she wore the cloak of it, hiding something that Nevano wasn’t wholly certain he wanted to see. 

‘Never mind.’ He thought. Nerevar stubbornly stayed silent but this time Nevano could feel a bit of a dark smirk. Bastard. 

“So you are the mer I’ve heard so much about: the one pursuing the Dark Brotherhood.” Almalexia said. Her voice was vibrant and captivating but Nevano remembered that little spark in her eyes and he felt his hackles rise. “Fedris Hler tells me that your name is Nevano.” She leaned forward and ran her fingertips over Nevano’s face, down his forehead, over his eyes and nose and ghosting over his lips. Her touch left the feeling of fire in its wake. Nevano desperately wanted to claw at his face. “Perhaps I should call you by a different name? I could get your names mixed up; they are very similar. You are so very much like him actually…”

Nevano couldn’t take it anymore and took a step back. The five High Ordinators he hadn't noticed before bristled, reaching for their weapons. Apparently he had violated some sort of rule of etiquette where he was supposed to take whatever treatment was given to him but he couldn’t bring himself to bear it. He wanted away from her. 

“No, my Hands.” Almalexia swept her hand gently at them, stilling them as effectively as calling off a dog. “I can only imagine how much of a burden it is to be so much like him. It must be difficult to be compared to him and maintain your own identity.” She gave him another gentle smile. Nerevar growled in the back of his mind. “I miss Nerevar, you know. I often wonder what could have been. But the past is the past. There is much to be done now to protect Morrowind. We will discuss this more in-depth later. Go take care of your Dark Brotherhood problem, for I have no doubt you will easily persevere seeing as how you already faced Dagoth Ur and emerged victorious. When you are finished, come back to me.” 

Come back to me. As she spoke those words, the spark once again showed itself in the back of her eyes, stronger this time, making his stomach clench. If he wasn’t sure before, he was now; Almalexia was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. As deadly as she was beautiful. He stepped back from her as the realization sunk in. Fortunately she was done with him, having already spoken her dismissal. The zealous guards didn’t rise up as they did last time, allowing him to leave unhindered but their eyes followed his every step as he beat a hasty retreat. 

Nevano didn’t want to say that he was fleeing the temple, he was walking with his head still high after all, but if he had a tail he could just about guarantee that it would have been tucked firmly between his legs. However he had one question kicking around in his mind as he slunk away: what in oblivion had Nerevar seen in a woman like that beyond the obvious??

A slow grin stretched and pulled at skin that hadn’t molded in that shape for months as Nerevar sent him a mental slap upside the head. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 22nd Hearthfire – Mournhold, Morrowind 

“Hello Almalexia.” Nevano said. “It’s been a long, long time and I can’t say I’m glad to see you again.”

Nerevar’s former queen was just as beautiful in death as she had been in life, more so, even, with all the blemishes of the living erased. However there was a familiar glimmer in her eyes, one that he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see. He remembered that look vividly, for it had been inches from his face when he finally sunk Trueflame deep into Almalexia’s chest and watched the light fade from her astonished face. He remembered laying her bloodied body down on the ground, in the shadow of Sotha Sil’s desecrated corpse, before looking at her face, finally at peace and devoid of madness, and thinking how much of a waste it was for three powerful beings such as the Tribunal to be so consumed in their greed for power. 

“It’s funny.” Almalexia said. “I am still uncertain by which name to call you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Nevano said firmly. “No more than it did back then.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” Nevano struggled, and failed, to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Why am I...why are you here? You’re dead! You have noticed you are dead, yes? It’s a little hard to miss, at least I would think it would be. I’ve never been dead before so I couldn’t say for certain but being mostly see-through should be a big first clue. Also, dead people do not come back and round up a small army of Ordinators to fawn over them so maybe you should explain what you are doing here first!”

“I am protecting them.”

“Protecting them or hoarding them?” Nevano asked sardonically. “Even flea-infested mutts taken off city streets aren’t made to grovel at their rescuer’s feet like this. You've at least been feeding them right?” 

“I could easily kill you now.” Almalexia said, her eyes blazing up suddenly in a fit of madness that Nevano remembered all too well. The Ordinators in the room stood as one in response to her sudden change in mood, the hissing of steel echoing in the room as they drew their weapons. “It would be so easy to simply take your life, to make you mine once and for all. Then we could be together again, forever. We could rule this land once more, Nerevar.”

“I remember when weapons weren’t allowed in the temple.” Nevano muttered, warily eyeing the forest of bristling weapons around him. “I would like to make that a rule we all follow again.”

“Your humor does you credit.” Almalexia said, her mad eyes shining brightly at the impending bloodbath. “But it will not save you this time, Nerevar.”

Trueflame and Hopesfire burst into flame at his hips in response but Nevano didn’t draw them. He didn’t move at all. Actually, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Something both icy cold and burning hot was sliding under his skin, along his bones. He knew instantly that it was Nerevar taking control of his body but this was very different from all the other times. Usually it felt as if something was alongside him, supporting his body. It was painless, even a relief if he was in real trouble, but not so this time. He wanted to scream as Nerevar’s forcible take over felt like it was shredding his bones but the icy hot onslaught had reached his throat and paralyzed his voice. Finally Nerevar surged forward within his mind, claiming full control of their shared shell and all but throwing Nevano out of the way. Within the confines of his own mind, Nevano found himself recoiling from Nerevar’s presence. Nerevar generally was rather mild-mannered, stoic, not quite the same way Veleth was, but rather with a quiet curiosity that had him checking in on Nevano’s antics without judging on any indiscretions. Nevano had rarely felt him get angry before, but now a raw, red rage filled the space in his mind, suffocating him. Red Mountain’s eruption couldn’t match the fury that was now exploding within him. 

“You keep invoking my name, Almalexia.” Words in a language that Nevano had never uttered himself spilled from his lips. He recognized it instantly as the ancient Chimeri language though he couldn’t say for sure how he knew that, or how he understood it. “Well, here I am.”

Almalexia's eyes went wide. All the Ordinators hesitated as her concentration wavered. "Nerevar..." She whispered. "But..." 

"Are you surprised?" Nerevar drew Trueflame, the flames burning red hot in tandem to Nerevar's fury. "Did you not believe Azura when she said I would be reborn? Did you not see me watching you through Nevano's eyes? Every step you made against him, every plot you hatched, I saw and heard it all. Three, no, almost four millennia now...has it been so long since we last talked face to face? Right before you killed me?"

"Nerevar, NO!" Nevano mustered up every bit of strength he had to push through the angry barrier. "She's not worth it!"

"Oh this is very worth it." Nerevar growled in Nevano's voice. "I waited millennia for a moment like this. I thought I could be patient and find her in the realm of the dead but now, seeing her....no. This is MY moment now."

"Not while you are in my body it's not!" Nevano shoved again at the barrier. "It's not worth it! Look at her! Look at what she's become! Do you want to end up like that? Clinging to a life that no longer exists in a rotting ruin holding innocent people hostage?"

Nerevar hesitated, the flames on Trueflame wavered a little. Nevano felt the iron hold Nerevar had on his mind lessen a bit and he took advantage of the opportunity, pushing at the other's presence and regaining control of his own body. 

"Let it go, Nerevar." He murmured, finally using his own voice out loud. "It's not worth it anymore. You go down that path, you start a fight here, then you forfeit the life of every Ordinator here. You'll be no better than Almalexia, or Vivec or even Dagoth Ur. You aren't them." 

Trueflame clattered to the ground, its flames extinguished. "You're right...I'm sorry." Nerevar said. Then he looked back up at Almalexia. "One day, after Nevano and I part ways, you and I will meet again. We will have much to discuss. Even more after I find Sotha Sil and Vivec. Do not count on a happy reunion between old friends. You forfeited that privilege...as well as any right to interact with the world of the living. If you do not release these Ordinators or if you refuse to leave, I will forsake my promise to Nevano and settle the matter personally."

Nevano said nothing as Nerevar finally gave up the last bit of control, sliding back into his normal spot in Nevano's head. He suspected that the only reason there wasn't more of a fight was because Nerevar had completely worn himself out. It was probably just as well. That was not something Nevano ever wanted to go through again. 

"I don't envy you." Nevano said, looking back at Almalexia. "I've done a lot and seen a lot in my life and the only time I've ever felt him angry is when you or Vivec were involved. Whatever is waiting for you when I die...I don't think there's a realm in hell you can hide in from him. You better hope I live a long time."

"And what of you, plaything of gods and kings?" Almalexia asked. "What do you think of all this, if you are even allowed to think of it?"

Nevano froze halfway picking up Trueflame, his outstretched fingers shaking a little. 

"I see you are at least aware that that is what you are." She said. "However, I see you continuing to follow the same path over and over. Are you content in your role? Will you continue to follow the directive of others the rest of your days? Will you continue to be their pawn?"

"Or will I become you, you mean." Nevano said quietly, his hand still suspended towards his sword. "Will I become so selfish as to claim power for myself that was never mine to begin with? Will I abandon my friends purely because some little job is beneath me? Is that what you mean?"

"You think yourself better than me." Almalexia's eyes burned again. "You would have done the exact same thing as we have given half a chance."

Nevano finally picked up Trueflame and brushed it off, small flickers of fire dancing in the wake of his touch along the blade. He thought back to all the times he could have run, could have abandoned the quests imposed on him, could have abandoned the world entirely and faded into obscurity while leaving the rest of the world to deal with things that, quite honestly, were not his problem. Yet, despite every opportunity to run, he had made it his problem. He hadn't run. He could have joined Dagoth Ur and killed him, taking godhood for himself (which, if he were completely honest with himself, the thought had crossed his mind) but he hadn't. 

"You are thinking of a world were the options are to run, to be a pawn or to take advantage of a tempting power." Nevano sheathed Trueflame at his side. "Three options. Options that aren't all that great. I didn't like those options, so I chose option four." Almalexia stared at him. "I could have run, but I was too scared to run. I could have bowed down to what the emperor wanted, what Vivec wanted, what you wanted, what Azura wanted, but I had too much pride. I would have taken the power for myself and found a way to destroy all of you...but I was too stupid to really figure out just how the hell you did that. See, it took a scared, stupid, drunk orphan who has no problem stealing what he needs to survive to figure out what a god couldn't."

"And what was that?"

"That option four was to make my own way." Nevano met her eyes once more. "All of you made the mistake of thinking I was this spineless worm that would obey because I had to. All of you made the mistake thinking I was alone and scared and had no choice in life but to follow this path. No, it was because of my family and friends that I fought. It's why I fight now. No god or king commands me and, most importantly of all, no stolen powers."

"You fight a whole nation for a handful of people?" 

"I'd fight the world for them." Nevano said. "Gods and kings be damned."

Almalexia watched him silently, studying him carefully. Then she raised her hands and, with a snap of her fingers, sent a wave of magical energy through the room that made Nevano wince. At first he was afraid that she had finally snapped and was just about to draw both swords when he noticed the Ordinator closest to him shudder and groan. As Nevano watched, the mer pulled his helmet off and rubbed at his forehead, a spark of life returning to his previously empty eyes. The rest of the Ordinators began to stir as well, murmurs of confusion echoing in the room. 

"We were the symbols of love, wisdom, mercy and protection and I see now that we failed in the end." Almalexia said sadly, looking over the Ordinators as their eyes slowly cleared in awareness. "But you...you embodied those qualities better than we ever did. You are..."

"I am merely Nevano." He said. "I am nothing more than that." Almalexia said no more but continued to watch silently as Nevano directed the Ordinators out of the temple. As soon as their footsteps faded he turned back to the spirit of the golden goddess. "It's time Almalexia. If there is one promise to Nerevar you will keep, make it this one."

“If not for Nerevar, I will for you. Nerevar might have shown me mercy, for now, but it was only because of you.” Almalexia said. “Before I go, I have a parting gift for you. It is not a trinket or weapon or anything like that but it is just as important and may be the thing that keeps you alive if you insist on continuing this mission to save the city and the Ordinators.”

Nevano raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging her to continue. 

“The self-proclaimed Autarch of the Ordinators did not do anything to his men. He is just as much a puppet as they are. Those weak little scrolls you carry won’t free these men from the grasp on their mind, not completely.” Almalexia said. “You’ve freed them for now but eventually the darkness will return and reclaim them. You need to destroy the evil that lives in the heart of the palace. Then the Ordinators will be freed forever and the dead will stay in their eternal rest.”

“I guessed as much…though not about the Autarch.” Nevano admitted. “But what is it? What is in the palace?”

Almalexia looked him right in the eyes and Nevano saw a look he had never before seen in the beautiful goddess’ eyes: pity. That, more than anything else she had ever said or done before, filled him with a dread that made his stomach drop like a stone. Her next words only confirmed his worst fears. 

“Why, it’s the spirit of King Hlaalu Helseth.”

XxXxXx

Goblins were interesting creatures. They lived all across the provinces of Tamriel and they varied greatly in each place. The ones that lived in the Summerset Isles were gray, lifeless, spindly things, bred into near uselessness through generations of captivity. In Cyrodiil they grew to the size of a human with all the aggression of a wild boar and the intelligence of a scrib. The ones found in Morrowind were a clear reflection of the savage land itself; some grew to be massive, hunched over like a troll as they ran through tunnels and caves as fast as rats with their smaller brethren. They were smart enough to make their own crude armor and weapons but, fortunately for the Dunmer, they stopped short of being smart enough to form a society higher than squabbling packs fighting over small tracts of territory. They were pests. Dangerous pests, but still pests. The smaller bands were often used as tests for young fighters testing their growing skills. Larger bands posed a bit of a problem though. Like now. 

Goblins burst out of the sewer like a flood, swarming out with far more efficiency than the Dunmer soldiers had earlier, their shrieks and garbled war cries making every sensitive mer ear twitch. None of them backed down though. A goblin pack this large was intimidating but the soldiers had been fighting undead Ordinators for weeks now. Goblins were a welcome change of pace and were easy targets for the waiting archers. 

Veleth watched the storm of arrows slice through the air and stop the first row of goblins in heir tracks. It didn’t slow the onslaught at all as the creatures behind the first simply shoved their dead brethren aside and continued their charge undeterred. Another barrage took out a few more but the goblins refused to slow. Veleth tightened his grip on his weapon. His heart was pounding with excitement, straining against his ribcage with the anticipation of the fight. He barked out the order to prepare to engage but he barely heard his own voice over the blood pounding in his ears. 

With a garbled shriek, the first goblin reached the point he had mentally designated the starting line. At his order, they all rushed in to meet the gobbling horde with battle cries that drowned out the horrible shrieking. The goblins, used to decades of easy prey, hesitated. Sure some prey fought back but this was a level of ferocity the spoiled tribe wasn’t used to. As such, the entire front line crumpled under the furious weight of the charging Redoran. War cries turned into terrified squeals, then to garbled moans as they were cut down. Many of the smaller goblins were already starting to hesitate and edge back towards the sewer. This was more than they had bargained for. 

At this point Veleth could have just driven them back into their holes. They were certainly surprised enough to be cowed into it. He could have gotten a mage to seal them into that portion of the sewers. He could have targeted the more aggressive larger ones and demoralized the smaller goblins into abandoning the den entirely. He could have come up with any number of solutions to end the conflict quickly and without expending so much energy. He chose the other option instead. 

His weapon sunk deep into goblin flesh, blood spraying everywhere. The goblin shrieked in agony as his entire left arm was nearly severed at the shoulder. With a twisting jerk, Veleth freed his axe and put the squealing creature out of its misery with another strike to the same spot, driving deep into the chest, shattering the breast bone and puncturing the heart and lungs. 

Another goblin tried to leap onto his back but, Nevano's taunt still ringing in his head, he refused to be flanked ever again. His axe still buried deep in the other goblin, Veleth kicked out, making his would-be assailant squawk in shock as it flipped through the air back the way it came. He wrenched his weapon free, the blade coming away with a sickening slurp. Three more goblins lunged at him in a perfect row but a powerful sweep had all three falling back bleeding from deep cuts. He gave them no time to recover; he followed them down and left two of them a bloody mangled mess. The third scrambled away as far away from the enraged mer as it could. It wasn’t mortally wounded, but it was crippled. That goblin had lost the will to fight, indeed had lost the ability to fight. Veleth didn’t pay any more attention to it. It would crawl off to a corner of the battlefield and be one of the ones they finished off after the fighting was over. 

The rest of the goblin tribe were starting to back down. This entire encounter had rapidly gone from a fight to a goblin slaughter. The streets were slippery with goblin blood and goblin bodies decorated the district. Not a single mer body was among the carnage. It was simply too much to take anymore. With eat-piercing shrieks, they turned and ran back to the safety of the sewers. 

"Cut down as many as you can before they get back to their holes!" Veleth ordered, casually lopping the head off of a small goblin as it ran by. "I don't want this countryside to suffer a goblin infestation after all we do here."

"You don't mess around with your foes do you?" Nerus asked, a mixture of awe and apprehension in his voice, slicing the throat of a goblin as it tried to crawl away.

"Leaving things behind unfinished tends to give it the opportunity to bite you in the ass later." Veleth said grimly. "Not letting that happen." Not again. Not ever if he could help it. 

"Now what?"

"Now we keep watch, just as we were doing before." Veleth said. "We keep this district clear and when we get word that Nevano and the Churl have cleared the temple and Godsreach, we drop the barrier and begin our assault on Brindisi Dorum. We don't deviate from the plan."

"I've been meaning to ask you this but...what if we encounter Andas?" Nerus asked. 

"We have enough capable fighters. We can hold him off until we can free him along with all the others." Between himself, Nevusa and Nevano, Veleth knew they could easily hold off the autarch, especially if Nevano was in a feisty mood. Nerus apparently picked up on his train of thought but, as Veleth had come to expect from him, he had it all backwards. 

"The other two runts with you? Not so likely." He shrugged. "I know he's the Nerevarine and all that but I thought he'd be bigger."

Veleth thought his jaw would crack as he clenched his teeth. He swiftly reached past the Nerus' armor and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt that was just peeking out. The shorter mer yelped as he was lifted up and slammed into a wall.

"Those 'runts', as you call them, would beat your miserable ass to the ground just for thinking that." Veleth growled, giving the terrified Ordinator a shake to punctuate each syllable. "As it is, you get to deal with me. I will NOT tolerate any more of your nonsense. Nevano isn't here to stop me so the next time I hear something stupid come out of your mouth, I will knock your damn teeth out. Do I make myself clear?"

At the frantic nodded, Veleth dropped Nerus and watched as he slid down the wall and fell flat on his ass before turning away. As he did so, he found himself faced with an audience of awed Redoran and stunned Ordinators. 

"Anyone else have disparaging remarks to say about the mer who are risking their lives to save your hides?" Veleth growled, looking over the pack of Ordinators. They quickly shook their heads. The Redoran soldiers grinned wider. "Damn right you don't."

The little blood-thirsty monster in the back of his mind roared its approval. 

XxXxXx

Nevano slowly made his way through Godsreach, the pack of Ordinators following silently behind him. He didn't blame them for not wanting to talk. He could barely imagine just what was going through their minds, muddled though they were. They readily followed him though, something he greatly appreciated. If they had balked or started demanding answers he probably would have just left them in the middle of the district.

Godsreach was quiet, their footsteps echoing down the street, telling him that Nevusa had completed her mission. The more residential district seemed to better shape than the others; it's buildings were more or less intact, though some roofs were caved on a few of the manors. Still it kept the memory of its grandeur alive. Nevano smiled wistfully when he saw the Craftsman Hall. He still remembered the day he had been handed his glass and leather armor that still protected his sorry arse. 

He turned his attention away from the echoes of memories as best he could and looked towards the group of mer at the other end of the street. He had to focus on the task at hand. This next, and final, phase to this plan was by far the most dangerous. His tongue wouldn't get him out of trouble this time. 

The expressionless leather mask turned to him as he directed his group of Ordinators to the others. “We've already sent a messenger along, I didn't know how long you would be." She said. "How was your…party?”

“I’ve been to better ones.” Nevano said. “Worst host ever. Never even offered drinks. I did bring back a bunch of Ordinators though. Some are so disoriented they’re running into walls so they’re pretty much useless at this point. I can't tell you if it's been a success or not...”

Nevano ignored the pointed look he could feel through the mask and looked up at the massive gates leading to Brindisi Dorum with more than a little trepidation. What was about to ensue would be nothing short of chaos. Three gates would burst open on hundreds of furious Ordinators. It wouldn't even be a battle. It was a round up. A bloody, violent round up. Though, Nevano's thoughts darkened, if Almalexia's words were true, these soldiers were risking their lives for a handful of borrowed time. There needed to be a permanent solution and he needed to come up with it fast. 

"Nervous?"

He looked over at the Churl. Her mask fully hid her expression but he could easily envision his daughter's bright, curious gaze. A surge of affection went through him as he thought on that. His daughter. He was getting very used to thinking that. 

"Not of this, no." He answered. Then, prompted by her silent plea, expanded on his statement. "I'm not nervous about this fight or for myself. I'm more concerned how to fix all this permanently. But that's for later."

"Not for yourself?" she asked. "You aren't afraid of getting killed?"

Not in the slightest. However he wasn't going to tell her that so callously. How could he tell her that, faced with an endlessly long life as he was, there were times that he would have welcomed death? How could he explained that the mere thought of outliving all his friends, watching them die one by one, was so painful that he wanted to run himself through with Trueflame? Fortunately, mercifully, as he mulled over a suitable response, the barrier flickered. He nearly sighed out loud in relief but it was tempered by the realization she would ask again. Hopefully by then he would have a fitting lie she would accept. 

"This is it men!" She called out. "Remember, do your best not to kill any of them in there but I don't want you to think that this is a suicide mission. As soon as we can, we will unleash the scroll and all of Mournhold shall belong to us once more!" 

Nevano stayed silent as a roar went up from the Redoran soldiers, punctuated here and there by a supporting cry from a few Ordinators who were in better shape than the others. They had refused to remain behind. It was still their city, they had argued, and they would still fight for it with their dying breath. Nevano idly wondered if they knew who had enslaved their minds but if they did, they were staying amazingly quiet over it. 

The barrier unceremoniously dropped, so suddenly that most of them had to look twice to make sure it was actually gone. Two soldiers jumped up and pulled back the bars on the massive gates. 

"This is it!" The Churl called out, pulling her weapons free. "Let's show these Ordinators how it's done!"

The gates burst open and Nevano found himself running, swept up in the sudden frenzied stampede. The plaza was packed with Ordinators, twice as many as he originally thought. Either Nerus couldn't count or he simply couldn't imagine the number he was told. Either way, he was quickly rethinking his original plan. 

A polearm swept through the air at his head. Without even thinking about it, Nevano dropped to his knees, his momentum sliding him along the ground under the blow. Trueflame whipped around, the blunt curved back of the blade hooking behind a knee and yanking an Ordinator flat on his back. Nevano pushed off the ground, regained his footing and continued his run. He wasn't quite sure what his plan was but he knew he couldn't stand still in this mass of heavy armor and weapons. He just had to keep from getting killed until the scroll was used. Though maybe...

A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that he had a small group of Ordinators chasing him, with more joining as he went along. Nevano grinned. If he could enrage enough Ordinators to make them follow him, to keep their attention on him and not on the soldiers, he could keep them busy, and alive, until the spell was broken. All he had to do was not not trip over anything.

He grabbed the shoulder guard of an Ordinator worrying a bleeding Redoran soldier and used him as leverage to take a sharp left turn, toppling the possessed mer and causing a massive pileup as all the other Ordinators tripped as well. Nevano laughed wildly, partly from the adrenalin and partly to keep from losing his nerve completely in the madness. All around him weapons clashed, armor groaned and bodies heaved in a dizzying dance that made his head spin. He had been in plenty of fights but this was a battle he was not prepared for. It was both overwhelming and exhilarating. 

He continued running, ducking under weapons and knocking Ordinators over whenever he could. A few times he pulled soldiers out of the way of what would have been mortal strikes. He thought he caught a glimpse of Veleth but he was going too fast to get a better look. Besides he had far more pressing matters to concentrate on; his muscles were starting to ache and his lungs were starting to burn. What was taking Garil so long to use the damned scroll? Was he taking a stroll around the plaza before getting to the middle? He would have growled but that required air and he was too busy greedily gulping in air as fast as he could to his burning lungs to spare any on a fruitless gesture. He couldn't keep up this pace for much longer.

Just as he was starting to think about altering his plans again, a now-familiar blue glow began to cast itself through the plaza, magic tingling over his skin when it washed past him. He grinned. In a few moments it would all be over and then they could...

Nevano never got to finish his thought. A spear seemed to materialize out of nowhere and collided painfully with his knees. He could have sworn he heard a crack or maybe it was his imagination. It certainly hurt enough he would have believed something rather important had cracked. Or maybe it was just the sound of his bones hitting a hard wooden spear haft. Either way he flipped head over heels and landed hard on his back, knocking what little air was in his lungs clean out. Stars danced in front of his eyes and darkness teased the edges of his vision as he desperately tried to suck in air to re-inflate his screaming lungs. "Damn..." he groaned. 

He didn't get a chance to recover. Something flashed in the bland light. He knew that flash. He used every bit of strength left in him to rolled out of the way just as an axe slammed into the ground with enough force to shatter the cobblestone. He tried to push himself to his feet so he could get away from his attackers but an armored boot rammed into his ribs, flipping him back to the ground. He looked up, gasping ad groaning, to find every Ordinator that had been chasing him staring down at him.

"You bastards really don't like it when you have to chase your prey, do you?" He coughed. "I mean, this isn't the first time you've chased me and you were just as angry then." One raised his axe. "By the way, you lot are horrible at catching runners. You were horrible then and you still are. You couldn't catch an obese nix hound on a hot day even if you offered it a sweet roll." The axe began its descent. Nevano sucked in a quick, painful breath. "Shit!" 

The weapon stopped just short of splitting Nevano's skull. It was so close that even when he crossed his eyes, Nevano couldn't fully see the blade. He let out a massive sigh of relief. "I really need to stop ending battles this way..." He muttered. 

The Ordinator above him, blue magical energy still swirling around him, blinked and pulled his weapon back. "I...who are...did you just say something about an obese nix hound?"

"Mournhold is ours!" Garil announced, his gruff voice carrying to every corner of the plaza. The Redoran cheered and the Ordinators got to their feet. Nevano did not join them. He peeled himself off the ground, grunting as his bruised body protested, and pushed past soldiers and temple guards, grunting in annoyance at their reluctance to move. They were too busy celebrating to notice the small storm cloud moving amongst them. Nevano ground his teeth but he couldn't bring himself to think bad of them. They thought they were through with this entire adventure. They had no idea that this was merely the beginning. 

He managed to find Veleth in the throng and grabbed him by the armor, wordlessly dragging him along as he searched for Nevusa. Veleth, recognizing the strange mood Nevano found himself in, didn't ask. He simply pulled himself free and followed. Nevano noticed that he too refrained from celebrating with the rest. So, the famous Veleth gut was also suspicious. Good. It should be. He found Nevusa standing a bit apart from the others. Fortunately she saw them before they had to push through the crowd and trotted over.

"I can't believe we managed to pull that off." She said. "Especially with so few casualties. Unfortunately we lost a few dozen Ordinators but we only lost a handful of Redoran."

"Good." Nevano said distractedly. "C'mon. We need to talk to Garil."

“Nevano?”

"Did you notice someone was missing in that fight?" He asked.

"Missing?" Veleth frowned. "No, I...Andas."

"You're right." Nevusa said. "We would have heard that ruckus if he was in a different part of the plaza. We would have lost many more men. But what...?"

Nevano gestured them into silence and weaved his way back through Redoran soldiers and half dazed Ordinators to where Garil was already issuing orders at rapid speed. 

“We have a problem.” Nevano said brusquely, effectively catching the general's attention. 

“Another?”

“We are nowhere near done. I know what’s in the palace.” Nevano blurted out. Instantly Nevusa and Veleth leaned in closer while Garil’s expression did not change. “I know you noticed Andas was missing and I know it looks rather bad for him but I now know that Andas did nothing. He’s just as possessed as everyone else. If we combine all the other accounts, he was the first one possessed and everything fell apart from there.”

“But what possessed him?” Veleth asked impatiently. "If it wasn't him, then what else is out there?"

“King Helseth.”

“He’s dead.” Nevusa said bluntly. 

“So was Almalexia but I still saw her in the temple. Actually, it was she who told me that it was Helseth.” Nevano looked up to three expressions of varying degrees of disbelief. “I'll go further into that in a moment but I don’t think she was lying. She hated Helseth. She saw him as an upstart brat and he saw her as a useless relic. Neither of them were wrong…however, Helseth made a hobby of making jabs at her without outright attacking her. Drove her mad...well, worse than she was already. Her giving up that information so that we can go and do the dirty work of disrupting Helseth’s plans is more for her revenge than our benefit.”

"Hold it, how did you get this information again?" Veleth asked. "Did I hear you just say Almalexia?"

"Almalexia was in her temple, holding the Ordinators in the temple under her will." Nevano sighed. "Almalexia didn’t want to let go of her followers. She loved being a god and having people worship her. Wasn't a pleasant chat but long story short she released the Ordinators, told me about Helseth and told me that Andas was Helseth's puppet. She's gone now, so you don't have to worry about that"

“Makes sense, actually.” Garil said. "I hate to say it but so far that's the only explanation that has made sense this whole time. As I've pointed out before, Andas never had the skill for something like this." 

“Not to mention the temperament, ambition and the host of other things that made Helseth…Helseth.” Nevano said. “Helseth killed a lot of people to not only get the kingship of Morrowind but to hold it as well.” He glanced at Nevusa and Veleth. “You two hadn’t been born yet when Helseth was in power. That was one mer who I would consider far more dangerous than Dagoth Ur. Wherever Helseth went, there was a trail of bodies in his wake. Nothing was going to stand in his way for…whatever his ultimate goal was. What that was, I have no idea. The Argonians invaded and killed him before any of that came to pass. Probably for the best, to be honest.”

“Which made his soul angry beyond all reason so he clung to the palace.” Nevusa finished. “Which caused him to warp into some evil being that is slowly poisoning the world around him.”

“I would argue more twisted than usual.” Nevano shrugged. “But, yes, you are correct.” 

“So…how do we stop him?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Nevano slumped back on a piece of rubble. “That is a shade that has been sitting and brooding and growing angrier and more powerful in the past two hundred years. It’ll be worse than killing those undead Ordinator zombies because I rather doubt Helseth has an actual body. Being see-through like that complicates matters. I’d rather deal with the undead. Hell, I’d rather kill a god run mad again. They at least bleed.”

"Why the Ordinators though?" Veleth asked. "The Ordinators are temple guards and, going by everything you just said, there was no love lost between them. Why would Helseth enslave their minds?"

"What better form of revenge than taking over your rival's guard?" Nevano shrugged. "That and Helseth isn't one to let a golden opportunity slip by. There were highly trained walking weapons so conveniently around so he made them his own."

"So what is our next move?"

“We won’t do anything today.” Garil said sternly. “Those Ordinators you freed need rest in the worst way and so do our soldiers. Tonight, we rest and in the morning, we plan. I got to think over this. I'll be the first to admit that undead are far out of my area of expertise. Churl, if we have to ask that witch of yours for help again, so be it. A shade isn’t something we can just go in on with a wing and prayer.” He looked directly at Nevano as he said that. 

“You say that as if you believe Jorun's stories about me." 

“That is precisely why I said it.” Garil said dryly. "I never believed a mer could be as stupid and reckless in his planning as you yet somehow be right most of the time. However I'm not taking the risk this time. Now go on. I got twice the army to keep in line here." 

Nevano let it go. He had no other choice. He had to, begrudgingly, admit that Garil had a point; he had to think on this. He couldn't go running in recklessly and hope to win on pure luck alone this time. He wasn't going to admit that though. 

XxXxXx

Nevano found himself unable to sleep that night. He lay back, using his pack as a pillow, staring up at the black, starless canvas of sky above him, listening to the deep rhythmic breathing of Veleth somewhere off to his left. Nevano had to admit he was rather surprised the usually restless mer had fallen asleep so fast. Kid was an insomniac of the worst kind. Still, he was glad for it, especially since he had to guess Veleth's weight when he slipped the rather powerful sleeping potion into his drink earlier.

He turned his attention back on the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of a star from between the clouds but the thick haze refused to let even a twinkle peek out to the world below. He frowned, his thoughts as fidgety as the angry clouds above. Like the clouds, they swirled around the palace in the center of the ruined city.

Helseth. It had to be Helseth. Nevano scrubbed his hands over his face. He would have happily accepted that Almalexia had been their perpetrator this whole time. Almalexia he knew how to deal with. She might have been a god with a thousand secrets but in the end she had merely been a mortal dabbling in powers that had never been hers to dabble in and had been driven mad in the end. She ended up very cut and dry. Helseth was seemingly cut and dry initially, a spoiled royal brat playing king, but in reality there was a thousand secrets hidden behind his shrewd eyes. Almalexia had the capacity to feel bad about those secrets; Helseth did not. It made him extraordinarily dangerous and a pain in the arse to deal with.

Nevano rolled over and tried to convince his body to sleep but he could barely keep his eyes closed for longer than a few seconds. He looked over and could see the outline of Nevusa curled up in a ball lying beyond Veleth. She had laughed uproariously when Veleth had slumped over, almost instantly snoring and drooling, and kept on giggling as she held up a small pouch, wordlessly showing him her intention of drugging the stubborn mer as well if Nevano hadn't. If there had been any doubts that she was his daughter, they had disappeared in that moment.

Nevano sat up abruptly. Neither Nevusa nor Veleth had ever met Helseth. They hadn’t even been born when the fetcher had died for oblivion’s sake. Helseth’s exploits were merely stories that were printed in books, some so outrageous that they almost didn't seem real. Nevano knew otherwise though. He had faced a calm, cool and collected young king who readily admitted to sending Dark Brotherhood assassins after him and had somehow come out of that meeting alive. Even then he highly suspected that it was more because he was more amusing to Helseth alive than dead. These kids with him, Nevusa so bright and curious and Veleth so stubborn and blunt, had never before met with anything like Helseth. Veleth already had a hard enough time dealing with blatant political tactics. The thought of these kids facing the shade of Helseth...if it still possessed even a fraction of the devious cruelty that he possessed in life then there was no way they would be able to withstand him.

A shiver ran down Nevano's spine. No. He couldn't let that happen. 

Carefully he got up. He wouldn't need his pack for this. Just Bonebiter, Trueflame, Hopesfire and all the luck he could possibly muster. No scroll was going to save him this time. Speaking of scrolls...he pulled out the final scroll and set it on Veleth's pack for him to find. Hopefully they wouldn't need it but just in case the Ordinators started to lose their grip on sanity again, they could use it buy more time. As he straightened up, he saw something very familiar on the ground where it had obviously fallen from Veleth's pack. Nevano smirked and put it on the scroll. He was going to get an earful from Veleth when he got back, especially if he ever realized Nevano had drugged, he might as well have something to laugh about later.

"Sorry, you two." Nevano murmured, securing Bonebiter to his back. "This one I'm doing alone. I'll beg for forgiveness later. Maybe."

Careful to not make a sound, Nevano slipped off into the night towards the palace. 

XxXxXx

It wasn't the hidden dawn sun lightening the sky or the sounds of the few brave morning creatures that still lingered in the area starting their morning chorus. It wasn't the rock that had worked its way under his armor and was trying to become a permanent attachment to his spine. Nor was it even the grumblings of a few dozen soldiers chosen for night watch. No, what woke Veleth up was a small voice in his head, spoken so clearly that even in the fog of sleep he might as well have been wide awake to hear it. 

"It's always when you sleep the soundest."

Veleth jolted awake and found himself standing before his brain had even registered the movement. For a long moment he stood there, his mind slowly waking up. He felt sluggish and he couldn't quite explain why. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He looked around and everything seemed normal. Most soldiers were just starting to wake up, no one seemed alarmed or upset. What had woken him up so abruptly? He turned to nudge Nevano awake only to find his spot empty. He glanced around for Trueflame and Hopesfire but they were missing along with the golden-eyed mer. While there were several plausible explanations for Nevano's absence, Veleth's gut told him otherwise. 

"Son of a gutter whore..." he cursed. 

"Good morning to you too, bastard son of a guar." Nevusa groused as she sat up.

"Not you." Veleth snapped, a bit harsher than he intended. "Nevano took off."

"What?!" That woke her up. "Are you sure?"

Veleth sighed as he caught sight of the scroll with clear evidence of Nevano's departure. "Besides missing weapons?" He held up the fork, the same fork Nevano had given him before they left Adrusa and he had, for some reason, carried with him through the sewers. "He left the scroll and this. Gods dammit Nevano..." 

“Mother was right.” The Churl said, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “He does do stupid things.”

“My father used to tell me he would always leave at midnight.” Veleth growled. “Stupid fetcher…”

“As you said before, insane and brash.” She sighed. “But also, bold, loyal and will do anything to protect those he cares about. However, you failed to mention that he ties all of those together at once into a maddening knot that makes it so that I want to hit him over the head with something heavy. Like a pot. Can I hit him over the head with a pot?”

“So that you can give him a legitimate excuse to act even crazier?” Veleth groused. “No. I’m tying a bell around his neck when he gets back. One he can’t squirm out of.”

“There's the one in the plaza that fell from the palace tower that looks like it’ll take ten men to lift.”

“That one. That’s perfect.”

“Consider it done.”

XxXxXx


	34. Royal Pain in the Arse

Chapter 33

Royal Pain in the Arse

XxXxXx

3E 427 - Mournhold, Morrowind

Nevano watched Bols Indalen put the last few stitches into black leather, his curiosity mounting. He had emerged from the sewers in the Great Bazaar several days ago with an incriminating note, a heavy heart and a bag full of raw glass he had appropriated from the Dark Brotherhood assassins. He had then been pointed towards the Craftsmen Hall, to the master armorer himself, only to find the man in dire need of help after his apprentice had up and abandoned him. Nevano left him with the glass ore and found a suitable replacement within a few hours, prompting the grateful mer to tell him to return in a few days. That had been a bit of a reprieve to Nevano. He had spent the entire time at the Winged Guar, binging on sujamma with the vague contract sitting in front of him. He still had the damned thing crumpled in a pocket, feeling like it was burning a hole through his worn clothing. 

The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute Nevano, a Dunmer recently residing on the island of Vvardenfell. In accordance with all laws and traditions, the afore-mentioned personage will be executed in the name of H in the most expedient manner possible. All services of the Dark Brotherhood are at the disposal of the Bearer of this binding and non-disputable document.

H. Nevano could only guess who H was. H was a rather common letter to start a name with. Or it could be a codename. Nothing he could really go on. It was a maddening puzzle, but it would be a while before anyone would realize the assassins were dead. It gave him a bit of a reprieve before the next set came after him, just enough time to try to solve this puzzle. As long as the Dark Brotherhood didn't decide to come after him purely for retribution instead of under contract, he was in a strange place of relative safety. 

"There." The craftsman help up what he was working on for inspection. Nevano's eyes widened, the Dark Brotherhood and the incriminating note instantly forgotten. Supple black leather decorated with metal and straps and ridges but on closer inspection they proved to be useful places for storing things like lock picks and knives. It was innocuous enough at first glance but a second glance proved to be intimidating enough. It was easily the most beautiful set of armor Nevano had ever seen. 

"That glass you brought me? I've been itching for a place to try a new idea out." Bols handed him the armor. "Most mer have a taste for it to be used in giant plates on metal, glaring for all the world to see but it's just not practical using it as plate armor. So I took that glass and fashioned it into smaller platelets and strung them together much like chainmail but I expect it to be even stronger than that. Plus they're hidden under that leather, certainly making your enemies underestimate you. There's also no light to reflect off the glass. Never understood that. Everyone seems to think it's too pretty to hide but armor isn't supposed to be pretty! You seem the more subtle sort anyway."

Nevano could barely say anything. Indalen wasn't kidding, the armor was as light as leather armor but he could feel the glass beneath, shifting like muscle under skin. Indalen was right; armor wasn't supposed to be "pretty" but this armor wasn't pretty. It was like standing a well-bred warhorse next to a child's pony - it was sleek and gorgeous and he couldn't wait to take into a fight. He didn't care if he couldn't eat for a week, he was going to take this armor with him. "How much do I owe you for this?"

"Since it's an experiment..." Indalen rubbed at his chin. "Nothing. You did me a huge favor back there and you did provide me with most of the expensive material. Just let me know how that glass works out. If it's as good as I think it is, I might have something that'll put my mark on the world."

"I think you might have accomplished that, my friend." Nevano pulled the armor on, marveling how it fit him like a glove. "How did you get my...?"

"When you've been smithing as long as I have, you can get a measurement just by looking at someone."

Nevano chose not to comment on that. Instead he settled for continuing to admire his new armor. If this armor really was as strong as Indalen said, then Nevano was going to make sure it would live as long as he did. 

"Oh, one more thing." Indalen shuffled his feet, suddenly nervous. "A note came for you. Not sure how they knew you would be here but ah..."

Nevano frowned as the smith handed him a tightly rolled scroll. It was heavy, expensive paper and sealed with...

"That's the royal seal." Indalen said. "You know...the king. Not sure what you did to garner his attention but...be careful kid."

Be careful kid. Those words echoed in Nevano's head as he made his way through the city and to the palace. Be careful kid. Nevano straightened up a bit as guards nodded him through the palace. Be careful kid. Badly concealed whispers and stares followed him as he walked through the ornate halls. Be careful kid. The double doors leading to the throne room were thrown open to admit him and he stepped into the heart of Morrowind's tumultuous politics. 

Being a hero, a champion, was a dubious thing. Sure, saving the world was a great thing. Nevano found he had gone from despised Outlander to controversial renegade to beloved champion in a matter of weeks. But being a champion was not all it seemed. The people were certainly grateful but while civilians tended to be warm and grateful, the further up the social ladder he went, the cooler the responses were. It wasn’t that they weren’t (mostly) appreciative of what he managed to accomplish, it was that they were now interested in seeing what they could manipulate him into doing next for their own personal gain. Apparently killing Dagoth Ur was not the top of everyone’s concern. 

Looking at King Hlaalu Helseth in the eyes for the first, Nevano instantly knew that the King of Morrowind was going to use him for every ounce of usefulness he could wring out of his body before tossing the ruined husk aside. Nevano was a plaything in his giant game board. His death meant nothing other than a few annoying reports that the people were upset. A few orders of making the fallen champion a saint and a statue or two to pacify the masses later and he wouldn’t even lose sleep at night. Nevano saw all that in one hard flash of red eyes. Then the King of Morrowind smiled, one so well practiced that its warmth almost seemed genuine.

"We are pleased to see you, sera." He greeted, the words almost as genuine as his smile. Nevano felt his hackles rise. "Have you come to be of service to your King?"

Nevano glanced around at the guards. None of them were watching him outright, but he could tell that everyone's attention was on him. They were waiting to see what he would do, what he would say. They were intensely curious at this stranger, this outlander, this little street rat who rose to become one of Morrowind's most remarkable heroes. The next words out of Nevano's mouth would dictate how the rest of his journey here in Mournhold, in Morrowind itself under Helseth's rule, would go. The only problem was that Nevano had no idea how to act in front of a king. 

"I might as well be, seeing as how everyone else seems to want me to be, Your Highness." Nevano felt rather than heard the sudden intake of astonishment from everyone around him. Apparently that wasn't the most appropriate thing to say. "You are not the first in this city to ask that same question."

"I see you've talked to Almalexia." Helseth said smoothly. "The goddess who surrounds herself with priests and guards and rarely ventures from her chapel. I wouldn't recommend her as someone who truly understands the people anymore."

"You do?" Nevano ignored the glares he was now blatantly getting from the guards all around him. Helseth was apparently allowing him to speak freely...not that Nevano was really going to speak any other way. 

"It is no secret that I have no great love for Alamalexia, her Ordinators, or the Tribunal of which she is a part. However, in light of recent events, I believe that we should...take a closer look at them, as it were."

"King Helseth, I have had more than enough dealings with gods and their playthings." Nevano said with all the conviction in his soul. "Whatever is going on between you and Almalexia, I want nothing to do with. That was not what brought me here. That would be being attacked by the Dark Brotherhood. My only intention is to find out who ordered the writ on me, convince them to take it off and be on my way."

"We shall see, we shall see..." Helseth said. "The Dark Brotherhood you said? They are usually an effective group. Not always, though, as we can see."

"You said nearly the exact same thing Fedris Hler said." Nevano said flatly.

"Hler? The leader of the Hands of Almalexia?" Helseth smiled as if Nevano had just divulged incriminating information but for the life of him Nevano couldn't figure out just what that was. This whole conversation felt like it was going in confusing circles. "We will discuss your visit with the temple later but as to the Dark Brotherhood, they, and the Morag Tong, have their purpose here in Morrowind. They are all a difficult lot, the Dark brotherhood more so, but they do have their usefulness. I'm certain they will no longer be a problem for you."

Nevano felt an ominous shiver run down his spine. He had a horrible feeling about what he was about to hear next. He almost didn't want to hear it, but there was no way he could stop Helseth. He could only listen in horrified astonishment. 

"So you'll have to forgive the slight inconvenience that dictated your arrival in our glorious city.." Helseth continued on, watching Nevano's face carefully. "It appears we were given a bit of misinformation. You see, we have various sources throughout Vvardenfell that are paid well to provide us with information. Unfortunately, sometimes it proves to be incorrect. One of our informants had suggested that you could pose a threat to our monarchy. That cannot be allowed, as I'm sure you understand."

Nevano, by the grace of some god or daedra or other source he couldn't identify, managed to keep his face blank of all emotion though his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. 

"It is never easy for one to assume the throne, especially after the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to our beloved King Llethan's death. There are those who would seek to profit from such events, to take the opportunity to create unrest among the people. There are those, even, who would wish to see us dead. Surely you have some understanding of this? What better way to achieve one's goals than to have others remove those that would oppose you."

Nevano could feel the balled up note in his pocket burn as if it had caught on fire against his leg. So...it had been Helseth all along. The mysterious H in the letter...it stood for Helseth. Nevano felt like a fool, a bigger fool, even, than when he realized he had been tossed out like an offering to "audition" to be Nerevarine. He was sick unto death of being played as a fool. His anger allowed him to get an edge above his fear, allowing him to think a bit more clearly. 

"Now I believe there are a few things we should discuss..."

"You will have to pardon me there, my king." Nevano finally found his courage to interrupt, causing Helseth to raise an eyebrow. Nevano's stomach constricted at that look but forced himself to continue. "While many might think that it was the Emperor who sent me to Morrowind, it was Azura who guided me along the way. Throughout my entire journey on Vvardenfell, she was there. The writ you put out on me might have been the bait to lure me here, but I wouldn't be here were it not for the Prince's will. I don't know what her will is yet, so until she reveals that to me, I cannot help you or Almalexia. Azura is a more powerful thing by far. I wouldn't want to anger her, do you?"

"Of course not!" Helseth said amicably but Nevano could hear the annoyance beneath but it no longer frightened him. "Every Dunmer should be respectful of our daedric ancestors. Take your time and return to me when Our Lady reveals her intentions to you."

Nevano inclined his head and crossed his right fist across his chest. It was a military salute rather than a formal bow but he was not going to bow to this dangerous creature in front of him, especially not after he blatantly admitted to putting a writ out on him. He then left the throne room as fast as he could without appearing to flee. He had used Azura as an excuse. Azura had appeared periodically but she was not so intertwined with this venture as she had been with him defeating Dagoth Ur. She merely provided a means for him to escape before Helseth could begin to use him. She would forgive him for using her so. 

Black clouds had billowed up while he was in the palace. The few visitors in the palace courtyard had already left to find shelter. As he fled to Brindisi Dorum, the skies opened up and it started to rain. Nevano wedged himself between the roots of a old tree, its limbs so far up that it didn't offer any shelter from the rain. He barely noticed the water running down his face and neck as he glared at the statue of Almalexia through the mist. This whole city...it was pretty, but it was merely a veneer covering the ugly truth. The city of light and magic was nothing more than a den of cutthroats and corrupt politicians. He hated it. He hated it, he hated that he had been thrust into the middle of this, he hated how no one seemed to want to let him go, he hated this life that had been thrust on him. 

Something dropped on his shoulders. He started and looked up to see a women give him a gentle smile before walking away without a word. Before he could gather himself and call out to her, she disappeared into the sheets of rain. He pulled the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. Perhaps...not everything in this city was so bad after all. 

No, he couldn't just leave. Not just yet. However he had a lot to think about before he made his next move.

XxXxXx

4E 201, 23rd Hearthfire - Mournhold, Morrowind

Nevano's pack made initial entry into the courtyard through the rubble, followed by Bonebiter, then Hopesfire. Trueflame he kept in hand as he squirmed through, trying not to slice himself on the wickedly sharp points of the blade.. It had been a small tunnel he had squirmed through, almost too small even for him. The gate leading to the palace from Brindisi Dorum had been opened but the archway and the guards quarters had collapsed, making entry rather difficult. Nevano had found the small tunnel instead, allowing him to crawl through instead of trying to climb over the wreckage. It wasn't any easier to crawl than it was to climb over, but it certainly made it easier for him to get through without being caught. He was just lucky that the way through was clear. 

Strangely enough the courtyard itself was clean. It wasn't as pristine as he remembered it - the plants were all dead and the intricately tiled floor was shattered - but the debris that so liberally decorated the rest of Mournhold was conspicuously missing here. He scratched at his messy ridge of hair; there wasn't even a bit of broken tile out of place where the mosaic had been shattered. It was perplexing...and a little suspicious. He couldn't stop staring at it...or the lack thereof. Then something hit him on the side of the head.

He jumped like a startled cat, his swords brought up before he landed again, his heart hammering. He hadn't heard anything to indicate something, or someone, creeping up on him. His eyes quickly scanned the darkness around him only to find...nothing. He blinked, feeling incredibly befuddled and more than a little foolish. All his senses said there was nothing creeping around him but the small spot on his head stung a little, insisting otherwise. So what hit him? Was he finally going insane?

A rock flashed by, clipping one of the silver rings dangling from his ear. He jerked out of reflex but watching in amazement as the rock, instead of hitting the wall, curved and continued to lap the courtyard before coming back towards him. This time, Nevano caught it. He rolled it around in his fingers for a moment before he tossed it back into the air. Instead of clattering to the ground, some invisible force caught the rock and sent it back on its orbit around the courtyard. Nevano's eyes tracked it as it spiraled upwards in the air then widened in shock. 

The perfectly cleared courtyard made sense right then as Nevano watched all the loose debris circle overhead. He gulped a little as a chunk the size of a horse made a pass over his head, surrounded by bits almost as big as he was like a hen with chicks. He backed away a few steps; whatever was holding those bits up could just as easily cease, sending all the debris raining down on him.

"The veil...it's thinnest here. I can feel it near tearing in front and above you." Nerevar sounded wearier than Nevano had ever heard him before. "Whatever Helseth is up to, whatever his plan is, it can't be good." 

Up and above. That would be the throne room. It made perfect sense that that was where all this mess would originate from. A fallen king unable to accept death would not leave his seat of power. 

He glanced around, trying to remember how the palace was laid out. To the south, by the gates leading to the plaza, was the legion depot and the guards' barracks. To the north the Imperial Cult and the reception area towers flanked the throne room that sat above the gate leading to the temple courtyard. The door to the reception area was missing and Nevano could see that the second story floor had caved in. That left the Imperial Cult tower. 

The door creaked open loudly, making Nevano wince. He might as well have kicked it in for all the noise it made. 

The old Imperial Cult room looked like it had been torn apart with a vengeance. Claw marks marred the walls, old rotting arrows stuck in out like quills everywhere and dark stains that was most likely old blood covered the floor. The small alter that had been shoved into a corner of the room had been smashed to bits. It looked as if the Argonians had been particularly offended by the Imperial presense and had made sure to erase it from existence. There were also a few skeletons, still inside their armor, now rusted from old age but Nevano could still see that it was the armor of the Royal Guard. They remained where they had fallen, alone and crumbling to dust. Nevano began to make his way across the room, careful to avoid stepping on the skeletons. 

Tendrils of green light, the same green as what swirled above the palace, shot down the stairs. Nevano froze and watched as the light spun above his head for a moment, his hands resting on Trueflame's and Hopesfire's hilts. Then the light shot into the skeletons. Nevano cursed in Velothi as the old bones shuddered and shifted, slowly rising up and holding up rusted swords. He hated fighting skeletons. If the spine wasn't destroyed, the hacked off bits would still creep around and try to grab at their target. What was worse, these skeletons still had armor on, covering their vulnerable parts. Trueflame and Hopesfire were completely useless. He cursed even more vehemently. 

All three skeletons charged him at once and he scowled as he rolled out of the way. He really didn't have time for a fight like this. They came at him again and he swiped at the nearest kneecap with Hopesfire, scowling even more when the elegant blade skipped uselessly over the plate armor. It might have been old and rusted, but it was still serving its purpose. He supposed he could hit at it the rest of the day and eventually make progress but it would ruin the edge of the blade and take precious time, time he couldn't spare. 

He rolled again out of the way of a charging skeleton, brushing against a pillar. As he did so, something clattered to the ground. Without really thinking about it, Nevano reached out, grabbed it and swung wildly, feeling a satisfying smack as bones gave way. The first skeleton crumpled into a heap, the green magic dissipating like mist. 

The other two skeletons hesitated but Nevano doubted it was through any intelligence on their part. More than likely the noise caught their attention. He had a second or two before they lunged again. Quickly he glanced at his weapon. It was a metal rod, a few feet in length. He recognized it as a support from the destroyed alter. It was never meant to be used as a weapon - it was already badly dented from that one hit - but it would hold up for a few more well placed hits. 

They came again, the same attack over and over again, and once again Nevano ducked under the clumsy swings and struck out with his new weapon. A kneecap shattering and the second skeleton went down. Before it could take a blind swing at his ankles he kicked out, sending the skull flying across the room. He drove his boot through the skeleton's spine, putting it down for good. 

The final skeleton swung its sword at him, aiming for his chest. Nevano jumped back, easily avoiding the blow, and drove forward before the skeleton could move on the backswing. He swung at its head and the skeleton's skull bounced across the room, spinning around inside its helmet like a toy. The rest of its body began to blunder around, arms outstretched as it tried to find its head. Nevano wasn't entirely sure how it could see in the first place as there was an absence of eyeballs in the skull's sockets. He could only chalk it up so some sort of magic. Some mage, somewhere, could explain it, of that he was sure, but there was no way he was going to sit through that lecture. He whacked at its exposed spine as it blundered past, the metal of the rod and bone shattering under the blow. The skeleton crumpled, the magic animating it draining out. 

The remains of Nevano's makeshift club slipped from his fingers as he looked at the piles of armor and bones scattered about the room. When he had last been to this court, only a handful of guards wore that distinctive red armor. He had a sneaking suspicion he might have known the skeletons he just disassembled. Poor sods. He hoped that they had finally found peace...in spite him smashing their skeletons across the room. 

Nevano carefully made his way up the steps, jumping over the rotting timbers as fast as he could before they could collapse under him. The landing was a bit sturdier but the floor still creaked and bucked worryingly under his feet. Luckily, Nevano was small enough he wasn't worried about the floor collapsing immediately under him. He turned right to go to the throne room but stopped short when he saw a familiar blue shimmer on the door. 

"You've got to be kidding me..." he muttered, instantly recognizing a barrier spell. It was a strong one too; he could feel it pushing at him from this distance. He sighed in frustration. He had no idea how to get past the barrier. He was no mage nor did he carry any sort of trinket that could dispel it, not that he ever really owned anything that could have dispelled anything this powerful. 

He spun around, intending to go back around to the opposite side to see if he could climb up to the other door to the throne room when he noticed a light coming from under the door opposite him. That door once led to Queen Mother Barenziah's private rooms. There shouldn't be anything in there. Driven by curiosity and a strange compulsion he couldn't quite place, Nevano reached out and pushed open the door. 

Nevano blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. The ghost of Queen Mother Barenziah sat calmly at what used to be a desk or dresser. It was hard to tell now. For a moment he thought she was one of the spirits who ignored the living, instead going on about the same routine they held while alive, but then she turned to look right at him. 

“Ah, there you are.” She said, giving Nevano that serene look he remembered so well. It was so calm, yet he had no doubt that she was assessing him, reading his every move and word. She never missed anything while alive and it seemed that she still saw everything while on the opposite side of the veil. “The Nerevarine. Savior of Morrowind, God-killer, the Reincarnate. Unsurprising to see you here, though you are little on the late side.”

“Queen Mother Barenziah.” Nevano smiled. "I would suggest you fire your groundskeepers. Place is a mess."

“Still as witty as ever..” She smiled, one more genuine than anything he had ever seen her do when alive. “I always enjoyed that in our conversations. You were never a boring guest in my court.”

“My queen…”

“Please, I am merely Barenziah. In case you haven’t noticed, I am dead. Titles matter little in death.”

“Why are you here then?” Nevano closed his eyes, almost fearing the answer. Almalexia was one thing, he had already killed her once, but Queen Barenziah...he couldn't stand the thought of having to do anything to her. He had been rather fond of her, had enjoyed her wit and intelligence. She was cunning and ruthless, oh she could flip any situation to her advantage in a heartbeat, but it lacked the bitterness her son had. Helseth had a chip on his shoulder and stood in his mother's shadow; Barenziah had long since proved her point. He made sure to be wary when dealing with her but far from her trying to use him, she had delighted in his caution and they had formed...not quite a friendship but more an understanding. It had been the sole source of comfort to him during those long days in Mournhold. 

“Waiting for you, of course.”

“Me?” His eyes snapped open.

“Oh yes.” She said. “Didn't I already say I was unsurprised to see you? I knew you didn’t disappear to Akavir forever. You would return one day. I just wasn't sure if it would be during the happy time or if you would be drawn to tragedy. I could have ordered you back, I suppose, and maybe Mournhold's fall could have been delayed, but you were never one for following direct orders. You would ignore it. Or your loyal friend would find a way to delay those orders interminably. I was most impressed when I found that the Buoyant Armigers had found a new calling. Your friend is running a superb network, though at the time it was weak enough I could easily penetrate its secrets. However I left it be. I see now that I was right to do so."

Nevano gave a small smile. "I never had any idea. I stayed fairly hidden, or at least I thought I did. Turns out no one noticed me because they all thought I was gone. I rather wished he had said something. I could have moved around a little freer."

"Then things would have turned out different. No, everything happened exactly as it should have. Except for a few things." Barenziah looked him straight in the eye, holding him fast with her gaze alone. "And that is exactly why I have waited for you. Something happened that should not have happened. I implore you to take this seriously because this is the...the hardest thing I have ever asked from anyone. As much as it pains me, you must stop my son. You must set the wrongs right again.”

“What wrongs?” Nevano asked. "What exactly happened?"

“I do not rightly know.” She admitted. “I do know that bad timing, bad information and, ultimately, bad luck led to Mournhold’s downfall. I remember orders to try to evacuate those they could but I think by then it was too late. The only warning we had were screams of terror before people began to drop dead. The Argonians were highly efficient. In the midst of the chaos, my son...did something. I could feel a dark magic rip the fabric of reality and warp the very sense of nature. There was nothing I could do to stop it or change it before I was killed. I can tell you that whatever happened here was enough to scare the Argonians away from this place." 

“I’m sorry, my queen.”

“All things must end one day, even you. I am content that my purpose in life was fulfilled. However, it seems that my son simply cannot grasp this concept. He clings to this world through whatever it was he did. A soul that lingers in the world of the living goes against the laws of nature. It becomes a thing of rage and hate, a corrupted thing, one that destroys everything it comes in contact with. His corruption is spreading. Please, undo whatever it was that he did. Stop him before all of Morrowind is consumed.”

“I will.” Nevano sighed. "That was my whole reason for coming here."

“Good." Barenziah paused, composing herself. "Now, there is a small jewelry box behind you. In it is my signet ring. It will get you past the barrier into the throne room where I know my son is. Once you put him to rest, the curse upon this land and the Ordinators will be lifted.”

“You do realize that once I kill him, actually kill him, Azura will not accept his soul?” Nevano said carefully. "After all he has done, he will end up in the chasm where unwanted souls go."

“Yes, but he made his choice. Perhaps I encouraged too much ambition in him, perhaps I allowed him too much freedom. Still, he was my son and I felt I had to prepare him for the corrupt life that is court. The rest was up to him. It seems it corrupted him in the end.” Barenziah rose up. “It’s time for me to go. I’ve lingered far too long here and I do not wish to be away from Symmachus any longer." She rested a palm on his cheek, the veil so thin that he could just about feel her hand beyond the icy touch of the dead. "Goodbye, Champion. We will not meet again.”

Nevano felt a curious pang as Barenziah faded into nothingness. She had been an interesting, beautiful piece of his past and now she was gone, truly gone. Nevano hated watching those pieces fall away and crumble into dust at his feet. 

"Well, she moved on at least." Nevano murmured to himself as he pulled out the old rotting jewelery box Barenziah had indicated. "To bad her son doesn't want to." 

The signet ring was an ornate gold ring, a emerald stone emblazoned with the balance scales of House Hlaalu. It was dusty and a little dull with age but still in perfect condition protected as it was within the box. Nevano could still feel the thrum of magic running through it. The rich and powerful always had access to the best enchantments the magical world had to offer. 

He went back across the chamber, towards the shimmering blue barrier. He scratched at his mane of hair, not quite sure what to do to. He held up the ring to inspect it. Maybe there was an inscription or something on the band of the ring. 

A tendril of energy shot out of the barrier and wrapped itself around the ring. The ring shook violently in Nevano's hand, making him wonder if it would shatter right then and there. Just as abruptly as it began, the tendril let go of the ring, dropping it inert back into Nevano's palm, and shot back into the barrier. The shimmering blockade faded from existence.

"Enter, little champion. I've been waiting for you." Something called from within the throne room. Trueflame and Hopesfire flared in response. 

Nevano slipped the now worthless ring into a pocket and walked into the throne room. The direction he entered from was the so-called back entrance to the throne room. The room was laid out east to west, which made no sense to him as it meant someone could enter from behind. Shouldn't the room face north and south so that no one had the opportunity to sneak in? Nevano shook his head. The room was still laid out as he remembered; the center of the room raised up a step or two, the back of the throne facing the door where he stood, eight pillars around the center area created a shadowy ring around the room where Helseth's personal guard used to stand. It was all completely dark now, save for the green light that illuminated the center of the room with a sickly glow. Something stirred on the throne; it reached out an arm, black in the gloom, and beckoned Nevano forward. 

Seeing no more reason to try to sneak given as how he had been invited, Nevano walked around to face the front of the throne. As soon as he faced the throne, his blood ran cold and heart jammed into his throat as it scrambled to leave his chest in terror. They had been wrong, so very wrong. They had thought Helseth was a shade, a spirit - incorporeal, no body - dangerous but his ties to the world of the living limited and could be severed rather easily. What was on that throne was no ghost. Even Nerevar recoiled.

"Gods." Nevano swore out loud. "That's a lich..."

XxXxXx

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, damned gods-rotting stupid mer!

Veleth stormed around on a patrol he invented for himself, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. He had made sure to pick a route that was out into the farthest reaches of the districts, ensuring he wouldn't have to interact with anyone. He wasn't in a mood that was considered publicly acceptable even by a troll's standards. 

He hadn't been allowed to go after Nevano. None of them had. General Garil had made that coldly clear. If Nevano was in such a hurry to go off on his own and get killed, then they would grant his wish, he had said. The general wasn't about to send anyone to their deaths dragging the small mer back out. He had been angry, very angry, but Veleth had been angrier by far when even he was forbidden to go in, especially since he had come along with Nevano in the first place! Still the habit of obedience was strong. He had, very reluctantly and very bitterly, stood down. Nevusa had tried to reason with him but he really hadn't been in the mood to humor her. 

He slightly regretted that now. Slightly. He also slightly regretting snapping at the soldiers around him. Again only slightly. He more than slightly regretting reducing that one soldier to tears over something so trivial his mind refused to remember it. However it got Nevusa to kick him out on this patrol so he could calm down so his regret was, again, barely more than minimal. 

He slowed his pace a little as he wound around the streets in Godsreach, finally allowing himself to actually see the city around him instead of surveying like a soldier. He hadn't been born yet when Mournhold had been sacked by the Argonians, the city long since a ruin by the time he had come along. He had grown up on stories of its grandeur though and the image of it had stayed strong in his mind throughout his entire childhood. If he closed his eyes, he could still see that image. When he opened his eyes again, he could just see the glory of Mournhold over the ruins for a brief moment. When it faded, he felt a pang of sadness. For a moment he could understand why Nevano would stare at something, pain clouding his eyes, or would avoid certain spots entirely. 

Thinking about the golden-eyed mer made his gut give another twinge, reminding him of the steady distant thrum of warning he had had ever since he had woken up that morning. Nevano would come out of this alive, Veleth was perfectly positive of that. The little shite was very obviously a survivor, limping back from things no normal man or mer would ever have a hope of surviving. Veleth wasn't sure if it was Azura's favor, incredible skill or sheer dumb luck that kept him alive. In the end it didn't really matter though. Nevano would show up at the best (or worst) possible time with that maddening grin and everything would somehow be worked out. Veleth felt his rage build back up again but he realized that that wasn't what he was mad about.

Nevano had dragged him from Solstheim, pulled him from the Redoran Army entirely and had taken him halfway across Morrowind...only to up and leave without a word in the middle of the night to what would undoubtedly be a difficult, nigh impossible, but invariably interesting fight. Nevano had left him to play guard duty and that irked him beyond reason. He wanted to fight! He didn't care if he was being petty. He didn't care that there might be a perfectly good reason for all this. Being angry about it made the most sense and he didn't feel much like swallowing his pride to see reason like Nevusa had wanted him to. 

Stubborn.

The word echoed in Veleth's mind, making one eye twitch in annoyance. 

Stubborn, impatient, short-tempered. 

If he had a drake for every time he had been called those things he could have retired a very rich mer indeed. Usually it was his own father calling him that but there was never any malice in it. If anything, his father's voice was always laced with amusement and even a bit of pride. Jorun had never done anything to temper it. If anything he encouraged it and taught Veleth how to channel it. Something that he wasn't doing now. 

"Gods damn it all." He sighed and tried to focus his mind. It took him more than a few moments but he finally brought his rage to heel. It was hardly as docile as his mother's dog but he could keep it well in hand enough so he could hold a conversation without snapping. His gut was still churning though, almost to the point of physical pain but he ignored it with practiced ease. Nevano was in the palace, looking for an angry ghost so of course his so-called magic instinct would be on fire. It would stay that way until Nevano came back. 

His gut, angry at being ignored, flared up, so harsh that this time it elicited a grunt from him and made him stop. This wasn't over Nevano, not at all. This was a sharper kick, not the constant rumble of a distant storm. It made the world around him suddenly seem louder and more in focus as his senses sharpened with alarm. He knew what it meant; this warning was for him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he looked up with a start. 

An Ordinator stood at the end of the street, armed with both a polearm with a rather wicked blade and the scimitar that was favored by the High Ordinators. His helmet was missing and he wore no extra ornaments to denote his rank. Veleth didn't recognize him from the ranks of Ordinators they had freed. This one was an older mer. He didn't remember an older mer. In fact, most of them were his age or even younger. 

"What are you doing away from the plaza?" Veleth easily fell into his commander voice, let a hint of a growl creep into his voice. The Ordinators were under strict instructions not to leave the supervision of the Redoran until the curse was completely broken. They didn't want anyone coming back under possession and risk someone get killed. That this one had disobeyed was annoying. That he refused to answer was even more annoying. It made his temper snarl back up again. 

Then their eyes met and Veleth's next demand died in his throat. Ruby red eyes were flat behind an unnatural light. No spirit sparked life on his face. He was a walking husk, a puppet. A very possessed puppet. There was only one mer that this one could be: the missing Autarch Andas 

Veleth should have been alarmed, he should have felt a jolt of shock, a healthy blip of fear, something. He didn’t though. Instead, from the pit of his gut, a curl of something rose up and bared its teeth. The beast shoved aside all doubt, all fear, all hesitations. There was no room for those, no room for anything other than its want to fight. He needed to feed the beast. He had whetted its appetite with goblin blood but it wanted more. It wanted the clashing of weapons, the crack of armor, the splitting of flesh, of man flesh, not that of a beast. This mer in front of him, the leader of the Ordinators, would be a worthy fight. Dimly he could feel his rational mind desperately trying to tell him that he should call out an alarm so they could hold the autarch alive until something could be done, that he should not give in to his rage and frustration, but he could no longer deny this feeling. 

He wanted blood. 

XxXxXx 

A/N: As I've said before, I started writing Ashes several months before I posted it but I caught sight of the post date the other day and I can't believe it's been up for over a year! Happy birthday Rising from the Ashes! I'm so very proud of you. Also, 100 reviews!! I can't believe it!! Y'all are amazing. This fic would NOT be possible without y'all, my dears. 

Also, I hear Helseth's voice as being like Hisoka from Hunter x Hunter or Orochimaru from Naruto.


	35. Fall of the Lich King

Chapter 34

Fall of the Lich King

XxXxXx

3E 427 – Bamz-Amschend, Morrowind

Nevano silently leaned against the old metal walls, watching the Dwemer spirit putter around peevishly, his mind numb. The past few weeks had been hell. That was the only way he could think to describe it. The whole power struggle between Helseth and Almalexia had slowly morphed into a power struggle between Almalexia and...the world. Things had spun completely out of control and every moment that Nevano allowed his mind to wander, he mentally berated himself for allowing himself to be caught up in all this. He didn’t know what to do anymore except to miserably continue along this path. 

“You have a choice. You actually have many choices, but you know you are the only one who can stop this.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek and he mentally growled at Nerevar. He didn’t want to hear it right now.

“This wasn’t intended to be easy.” 

"Shut up." Nevano snapped out loud. "For over thirty years you've been completely silent. Now you claim you want to help me but where were you while I was slave? I heard nothing while my back was being whipped into ribbons and my feet sliced to keep me from running away again. Where were you when I was dying in that shite hole? It wasn't you who saved me, it was Modryn! I was arrested on a made up charge and exiled into Morrowind and still you remained silent. It wasn't until Azura had me trapped in that cave filled with dead bodies and ghosts and told me I was supposed to be you that you ever bothered to say anything! You’ve been this annoyance in my head for the past few months." 

Nerevar said nothing.

“Now look. I’m in a damned Dwemer ruin, a pawn for a spoiled royal brat and an ex-god who is slowly losing her mind while the city outside is in the middle of an ash storm that I caused!” Nevano sucked in a deep breath, feeling it drag raggedly against his suddenly tight throat. “I just…I didn’t want any of this to happen. I wanted to go home. I’d be in Chorrol by now were it not for those damned assassins. Now I…I’m talking out loud to something I’m not even sure is real or not, watching the ghost of a Dwemer float around trying to make an old butter knife catch on gods damned fire.” The spirit in question gave him an odd look but said nothing. Even the dead were starting to think he was insane now. 

“You weren’t ready, lad.”

“What?”

“You were not ready. You had to go through the worst of the worst, to live through it, to be as strong as you are now.”

“Damn that!” Nevano exploded. “I never wanted this! I was happy being in the guild back in Cyrodiil! I was happy being nothing, a nobody. I never wanted this whole stupid hero champion shit. Now I have to watch everyone I love die. Until when though? Am I supposed to just exist until the world ends? Going from one conflict to another until time ends? Be that mystic hero everyone fawns over while the truth is I’m nothing more than the world’s pawn? Is that it?”

“If that is what you choose to do.” Nerevar said patiently. “You have a choice. You could have backed out of any of this but you choose to follow the path of destiny. Not because of the prophecy itself but, and you said this yourself, because it was the right thing to do. You can choose to go from battlefield to battlefield. There will always be a conflict somewhere. You can always choose to avoid these conflicts and devote your life to something more…peaceful. There is nothing to stop you. Your strength is your own, something you have earned through hardship and strife. You are a great man because of it and…” 

“Stop!”

“Yes?”

“Stop. Stop the noble speech. It’s giving me a headache.” Nevano scrubbed at his face, his anger giving way finally. “You might as well say what you are thinking: ‘shut up and keep going’. I’m no hero. I just wanted Helseth to stop sending his damn assassins after me.” 

“I was thinking ‘shut up and keep going because you are the only mer with enough sense around here to fix this’. Everyone else is either insane or deluded by his or her own grandeur. Also, I think you’ve already accomplished your goal. Now it’s stopping Amalexia from trying the same thing. Her methods are far more…convoluted. She is a far more twisted individual than the princeling.”

“I think that’s the closest I’ve ever heard you come to getting nasty.” Nevano tried to smile but couldn’t convince his lips for form the false grimace. He could appreciate Nerevar's attempts to make the situation better but it wasn't fully taking. He had thought he was done once Dagoth Ur lay dead at the heart of Red Mountain but he was beginning to see that that was merely the beginning. The thought that it would never end, that conflict would continue to follow him until something finally killed him, was absolutely terrifying. Was he truly doomed to walk this world until it all burned? He supposed he could always end it if it became too much. A blade through the gut or throat would do the job but…

He winced as he recalled watching the many opponents he had sliced open in the same fashion pathetically flop like a fish at his feet, blood gushing from the massive wounds, primal instinct desperately trying to cling to life. Some had died quickly but others took minutes to die, each agonizing moment growing more and more desperate for life, clawing at whatever lay closest. Nevano couldn’t think of any point in his life, no matter how low, where he would prefer an end like that. He sighed and scrubbed at his face; he was too much a coward for suicide. It seemed his only option was to watch the world burn.

His dark thoughts were interrupted when the ghost of Radac glided over to him. The spirit of the old Dwemer soldier had initially scared him half to death, more so than even the Dwemer machinations that liked to pop out of the walls. After his initial fear had worn off and he discovered that the cranky spirit would not, in fact, kill him, he had gotten a small glimmer of hope. Currently the spirit seemed rather grumpy…at least more so than usual. 

“I added that pyroil you collected for me.” Radac huffed. “It should have that ‘fiery blade’ effect but I’m afraid nothing happened. Too bad. It’s a nice looking blade otherwise.”

Nevano picked up the wickedly curved blade. The hilt felt warm in his hand, almost as if it were a living thing. The blade glistened with its newly applied oil coat but otherwise appeared unchanged but Nevano could feel that something was different. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly along the blade, feeling a slight hum of energy coiled within the seemingly inert metal. It didn’t repel him but neither did it welcome him. It was…waiting?

He ran his hand back down the blade, bumping his fingers over the spikes that hung like teeth from the underside. Just ghosting the edge started to unbraid his skin. This blade was so sharp it could easily slice through an ogre’s hide and not lose its edge. He hovered his palm over the edge. The blade’s magic swirled excitedly in anticipation. 

He sank his palm down onto the sharp edge.

Instantly blood welled up from the deep cut and spilled onto Trueflame, staining its flawless surface red. Defying all laws of nature, his blood traveled up the metal, filling the blood groove from point to hilt. The whole blade reflected red and started to heat up under his hand. The air around him began to shimmer with heat. The magic was going wild within Trueflame. Nevano could feel it swirling like boiling water only it was…happy? He didn’t know how else to describe it. The sword was celebrating. It had found its new master at long last. 

Trueflame burst into flames. Nevano watched wide-eyed as the flames traveled up his arms and slowly engulfed his whole body. Unlike the usual minor annoying sting he usually felt when handling fire, he felt nothing from Trueflame but warmth. He was greeting his new sword for the first time. ‘Nice to meet you too.’ He thought. 

“Huh, never seen a blade that needed a blood bond.” Radac said. “Interesting weapon. At least it works. You got what you wanted. Now leave this old dwarf to his haunts. Go on!”

“I thought the Dwemer didn’t use magic?” Nevano asked as he retraced his steps out of the ruin. 

“They use magic, just not quite like the magic you are used to.” Nerevar said. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Nevano said quickly, cutting Nerevar before he could go into a detailed explanation that would leave Nevano wondering if he could cut off the portion of his head Nerevar tended to occupy in order to shut him up. All he needed to know was that Trueflame’s magic was not like the magic the rest of Tamriel worked on. It was a strange magic. One born of logic and science mixed with ancient knowledge. There was no way he could understand it and almost no need to. Trueflame had responded to him; they were now linked for life. That’s all he needed to know. He had another ally in this seemingly unending conflict. Nerevar was right, as much as he loathed to admit it, but he was the only one that could end this. He just wasn’t sure how much of a choice he really had in that ending. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 23rd Hearthfire - Mournhold, Morrowind

Nevano could only stare in horror at the monstrosity in front of him. When he last saw Helseth he had seen a painfully young king, handsome, devious and quite easily the most corrupt individual he had the displeasure of knowing. There was barely a recognizable trace of that mer left. 

Shredded robes that once were the royal purple barely covered a body whose skin was dry and shrunken over bones as tight as a drum. Cold eyes glared at Nevano from sunken sockets, not burning red like a Dunmer's should, but a pale, sickly yellow. Pointed teeth were bared in what might have been a grin but Nevano had seen a far more pleasing smile on a dragon. There was hardly anything Dunmeri left of the former king of Morrowind. Nevano was far more reminded of Skyrim's draugr than mer.

"You...yes, I know you." Helseth said, his words somehow perfectly clear past those cracked lips.

Nevano licked his own lips in reaction. "It's not everyday I'm recognized by the undead. I knew I was popular but I didn't think you fetchers would come after me from beyond the grave."

There was a hissing noise from somewhere within the depths of that throne. Nevano wasn't sure if he should interpret that as a sign of anger or a normal noise that a lich would make. He seriously doubted he had made the creature laugh. If he had then he was hanging up his swords. He had made a lich laugh. That meant he had officially seen and done it all. 

"The witty Nerevarine." He said. “You were always the most amusing little rat.”

Nevano huffed in annoyance. "I do have a name, you know."

"None of the incompetent fools I sent could kill you. Not even that blasted bitch goddess could do it." Helseth held up a hand, admiring the overgrown, claw-like nails. Nevano felt his stomach clench. That was too much like Dagoth Ur for comfort. "You managed to squirm your way out of every situation through sheer dumb luck. I am almost impressed." 

"You are confusing luck and skill." Nevano’s voice remained steady. "When we first met you took me for a pathetic, scared, dumb fool. Admittedly, I was at least two of those things but I wasn't foolish enough to believe a word you said. Now, through skill, I have managed to survive this long. In my own body too, I might add. Look at what you've become. You are..."

"The embodiment of perfect power." Helseth rose up from his chair. Nevano swallowed hard and fought the urge to take a step back. In life Helseth had only been a few inches taller. Now he rose far above Nevano. 

Trueflame and Hopesfire flared up brightly as Nevano gripped their hilts tightly. "I don't care what you are." He said. "You cannot keep doing this. I promised your own mother I would kill you. This ends now."

He drove it with Hopesfire first, landing a strike on Helseth's arm. The lich didn't even try to move or block the blow. Hopesfire easily parted the leathery flesh and bit down to the bone below. Instead of shattering though, Hopesfire was brought to a horrific, jarring halt, sending shock waves down Nevano's arm. His grip wavered at the unexpected jolt. It felt like he had struck a solid block of steel instead of bone. Black ichor oozed up around Hopesfire, causing the blue flames to flicker and hiss. Helseth didn’t even react to the hit. He reached down, grabbed Nevano’s arm in a terrifyingly strong grip and lifted him as easily as a child would a toy. 

"Vith..." Nevano flew across the room and slammed into one of the pillars lining the room, the air knocked clean from his lungs.

"He's stronger than the average undead." Nerevar observed silently. 

"I hadn't noticed..." Nevano coughed out. Then he rolled away with a yelp as lightning nearly split the pillar he was leaning against. He scrambled behind the pillar as more lightning struck all around him. "How am I supposed to kill something so damned strong? Even a dragon would think twice about this." 

"The phylactery." Nerevar said, like an irritating child over his shoulder. "Look for the phylactery. All liches have one."

"What in the sixteen planes of oblivion is phlac...lacky...whatever?"

"It's a container holding his soul." Nerevar said flatly. "You've dealt with how many mages to not know this?"

"I never listened to them babble!" Nevano burst out. "It's boring!"

"Fine. Destroy the room. Maybe you'll get lucky and destroy the phylactery in the process."

"See? That is manageable. Lead with that next time!" Nevano put Trueflame and Hopesfire away and drew out Bonebiter. The lich was too strong for him and the powerful lightning magic was keeping him at bay but he was willing to bet that even Helseth couldn’t stand up to Bonebiter’s devastating sting. 

He spun around the pillar and fired an arrow off. Bonebiter’s power was incredible. Whatever it touched was ended up damaged, usually badly. Even a glancing blow on a limb would leave the appendage destroyed and useless. Nothing, not even stone or brick or even metal, could withstand a direct strike. The arrow flew straight and true. It would shred the undead’s body. 

Helseth caught the arrow before it even touched him, the arrow vibrating with pent up power in the iron grip. 

“By the gods…I didn’t even see him move.” Nevano breathed. “How did he...” He cut off with a yelp as the rotted wood of the pillar exploded, showering him in splinters, when Helseth threw the arrow back at him, Bonebiter’s power finally releasing, just not in its intended target. 

Nevano ran from his own weapons attack. This time, instead of dread filling his belly, he felt angry. Bonebiter was his. He had delved deep into the Urshilaku burial caverns, had bested the spirit of Sul-Senipul to obtain the bow that would prove his worth to a people he had once been born to. He had worked hard to prove himself over and over to a people, no, to an entire province, that didn’t want him. He was not about to let one spoiled, literally rotted, royal pain in the arse brat use his own weapons against him. Then a thought struck him; there were other ways to attack something rather than directly. Nerevar had given him an excellent idea and he was more than willing to try it out. 

The next arrow went nowhere near the lich. Instead it struck one of the pillars, sending bits of rotted wood flying in all directions as it veritably exploded. Bits of the ceiling came crashing down, their support suddenly gone. Helseth growled as he moved out of the way of the falling debris. It wouldn’t hurt him – Nevano didn’t have anything in his arsenal that could actually hurt him – but it was distracting him. He just needed to keep the lich distracted until he could find that phylactery. 

More debris rained down as he shot arrow after arrow all around the room, remaining in constant motion. Nevano had to admit it was rather fun destroying the room even as he felt Nerevar give what he equated to an exasperated eye roll, which he ignored. Nerevar gave him the idea after all. The stuffy old spirit had no room to complain. 

“Enough!” Helseth sent the debris flying back towards Nevano. Nevano tried to duck out of the way but Bonebiter was knocked clean from his hands and sent spinning across the room. “Annoying little rat.” 

“There!” Nerevar said, as Nevano started to reach for Bonebiter. “Over there. By the throne.” 

The unassuming box sat at a place of honor to the right of Helseth’s throne. The wood was old and blackened and its silver and gold bindings were tarnished and green. He would have disregarded it as junk had he not noticed the glyphs wandering idly through the grain of the wood. It could only be the soul box whose name he could not pronounce. If he could get to it before Helseth noticed and destroy it then this fight would be over. 

Taking a deep breath, he darted towards it. He drew Trueflame and made a desperate slash at the box, hoping to inflict any sort of damage on the box. 

“I don’t think so, little rat.”

Green light enveloped him, holding him in place. Cold snaked through his veins, making him feel like a block of ice. His breath rose in front of his face in a frozen cloud. It was a cold like he had never experienced before. He had experienced bitter cold in Skyrim before but never had it made him feel sick to his stomach before. Every instinct in him screamed that this was wrong, that he needed to get away, but he couldn’t move at all. Then the ice seemed to shift under his skin, making him grimace at the sickening sensation. Trueflame slipped from his frozen fingers and clattered to the ground, its flame extinguishing before it hit the floor. 

"Nevano!" He heard Nerevar from far away, as if they were shouting from across a canyon instead of in the confines of his own mind. He sounded...almost frightened. Strange. Nerevar had never sounded like that before. Nevano had gotten a variety of emotions from him before but he had never been scared before. This was bad then. 

"So, Nerevar really was reborn after all...in you." The lich said. His voice seemed to echo within Nevano’s body, making him shudder in repulsion. "Interesting. His soul is intertwined with yours. Nothing anyone had ever guessed before. No matter. It is easy enough to unravel. He is inconsequential. His soul is weak, not even worth the trouble of using. Yours on the other hand..." 

Nevano couldn't feel the cold anymore. He couldn't feel his body anymore. Something deep within him snapped like a taunt wire being cut. He felt like he was being pulled away. Then realization hit him like a bolt of lightning; Helseth was pulling his soul free. He tried thrash free but Helseth's hold was already too strong. Horror bloomed cold in the pit of his stomach but that, too, was starting to feel distant. Fear was an emotion for a mortal body, something he was almost free of. 

"Yes, you begin to understand." Helseth said. "I’m going to use your soul to feed my power. It is a strong enough soul that I can finally extend my reach beyond these walls and begin to take over my lands again. I do thank you for bringing me the Redoran. They will make perfect soldiers in my army in addition to the Ordinators. I also appreciate you sending Almalexia on her way. You thought you were cleaning up the city, but you were clearing the way for me instead."

Nevano tried to feel anger. He wanted its fire to give him the strength to fight back, but he couldn't reach it anymore. Hell, he would even take despair at this point. Even despair would be better than this emptiness but he was beyond the point of being able to save himself. One more pull and his hold would be lost forever. He was utterly helpless and he couldn't even feel disgust over it. 

"The time is now." Helseth was positively gleeful, in as much as something mostly dead could sound gleeful. He turned his head towards the windows that overlooked the courtyard. "Go now, my minion, my little Autarch pet. Reclaim our army. Start with that stubborn whelp in Godsreach. That's another strong soul that will be put to good use. I believe you know him well, little Nerevarine. Between your two souls and the Autarch, my army will be unstoppable."

Veleth. He had to be talking about Veleth. Nevano thought that by leaving him behind he was protecting him but no. Helseth had been prepared since before they even came to Safepoint Adrusa. If anything, the dead king had been counting on a heroic rescue such as this. He had played them all for fools and they would all pay dearly for it. 

‘I’m sorry, Nerevar.’ Nevano thought, hoping he still had the strength for the old general to hear him. ‘Didn’t quite think it would end this way.’ 

A small point of warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach. Slowly it grew and began wrapping around him like a rope, pulling him back towards his body. 

"Alone, I am weak, yes." The Chimeri general said grimly. "The dead should not have power in the world of the living. But through you, with you, in this spot where the veil is weak, I am far stronger than he realizes." 

"When you were born, our souls were intertwined by Azura." Nerevar continued on. "Originally the plan was for you to simply have my power but Azura foresaw the amount of trouble you would get into, a good portion, admittedly, at her command, so she gave you my soul as well to protect you. I'm not sure even Azura could foresee the sheer amount of trouble you would land in. This being a prime example."

‘He was forced...?’ Nevano thought, his mind struggling to comprehend what Nerevar was telling him.

"No. I volunteered." Nerevar said simply. "It's been an interesting turn, viewing the world through your eyes." 

Nevano thought at first it was sarcastic but Nerevar had a nigh nonexistent sense of humor. He was speaking the plain truth. 

"You were always you, lad. I just made sure you didn't get killed along the way." Nerevar went on before Nevano could respond. "You aren't meant to die yet. Not here, not by this creature."

Nevano felt more...himself again. His fingertips twitched and he could feel the coldness of the lich seeping into his bones once again, prickling his flesh like thousands of needles. That painful cold was far more welcome than the terrifying sense of nothingness. 

"What are you doing, you meddlesome relic?!" Helseth hissed. 

"Promise me something, lad." Nerevar ignored Helseth completely. 

"Promise...?" Nevano managed to form the words through numb lips. 

"Gunjar already made you promise to cause mayhem. I know you will be able to fulfill that easily enough." Nerevar said. "I want you to promise me that you will win. I want you to defeat this delusional brat and then I want you to defend Morrowind and make the Thalmor sorely regret ever looking east. I don’t want you to give up or give in. I want you to find the strength deep within you and make them all pay dearly."

"I was...going to do that anyway." Nevano said a little more clearly. "What are you trying to say?"

"Hopefully I'll be there for it." Nerevar said. "I do so wish to see the look on the Thalmor's faces when they see you, who is rumored to be dead or gone, coming towards them. I cannot promise anything on my behalf though."

"Nerevar?"

"Good luck, lad. Try not to get yourself killed." There was a small note of sadness there, one that sent a jolt of fear through Nevano. He could feel Nerevar gathering his energy for…something. He had no idea what the spirit that lived in his head planned on doing but he was helpless to stop him or aid him. 

"Nerevar!" 

A massive amount of power surged from his body, more power than he ever thought was in him, and shot along the beam of magic linking him and Helseth. The lich screeched in pain and flailed back, his arm bursting into flame, the dry skin cracking and blackening like parchment. The powerful spell holding Nevano was whisked away like a breath in the wind by the sheer power of Nerevar’s attack. 

Nevano dropped to the ground now that he was cut loose from the restricting magic. He stayed crumpled on the floor, shivering in shock. He needed to move, he had to move... but he was alone. It was empty inside his head. He couldn't sense Nerevar anywhere. He was alone, horribly and completely alone. No…no, Nerevar couldn’t be gone. His power was just terribly weakened. There was no way Nerevar was gone. He had to move. Nerevar was gone. Move. 

'Move.' He willed himself. 'Move!' His legs twitched uselessly in response, his muscles stubbornly locked. He looked up and saw the box sitting on its dais, taunting him. He gritted his teeth. He had to destroy that box. He had to move and he had to destroy that box. Nerevar told him to win. He was going to win. 

Muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself up. It felt as they were stretched to snapping with every laborious step. Helseth was still screeching and fully distracted with his arm disintegrating and smoking to notice the small mer’s slow progress towards the box. Nevano picked up Trueflame from where it had dropped to the ground and staggered the rest of the way to the box. The swords flames warmed him, giving him a boost in both strength and spirit he so desperately needed. He hated the thought of driving the blade into that box but it was the only thing strong enough to break through the barriers. 

He struck down at the box but, as he suspected, the magical barrier caught the flaming blade before it got anywhere near the wood. However, Nevano felt it give a little under his weight. Trueflame’s magic was stronger than the ancient barriers. He grunted and pushed harder. The flames wavered, repelled by the invisible force but Trueflame moved a few inches closer. Nevano gritted his teeth and wrapped both hands around the hilt. He could defeat the barrier if he kept at it. He could see it was wavering, like heat shimmering in the distance. He laid his entire weight on Trueflame. The razor sharp edge touched the box, the glyphs fleeing from Trueflame's light. Nevano's already shocked muscles trembled violently, threatening to give out. He had to hold on but he wasn't sure how much more he had left to give. Trueflame flared, the flames traveling up to surround his hands. The warmth from it was like a balm, chasing away the last of the coldness. For a moment, he didn't feel so alone. Hope bloomed in him, giving him the sense that he could actually do this. His muscles fired in response. The barrier gave out and Trueflame dropped like an executioner’s axe, splintering the wooden box into a thousand pieces. 

Inside the box, seemingly huddled among the splinters, was a swirling ball of light. Nevano had never seen anything like it before but he could only assume that it was a soul. Strange, he expected Helseth's soul to be a greasy ball of black tar, not this bright, cheery ball of starlight. Taking a deep breath, he reached down to pick up the swirling, bright ball. As soon as her fingers touched the warm surface, the world around him changed. 

Helseth stormed along the lower hallways of the palace, screams and moans of terror echoing from the galleries above, accompanied by crashing and the clashing of weapons. Helseth's nostrils flared in disdain; he could smell the musty scent of the filthy lizard people even above the scent of blood and fear. They had finally breached the palace. He didn't have much time. 

"Come, Kardryn." He ordered as he unlocked a rather unremarkable door with an ornate key.

"Shouldn't we..." The Altmer trailing behind him stammered, licking his lips nervously as he looked back the way they had come.

"You should listen to what I tell you." Helseth said scornfully. He had no time for such foolishness. 

"Yes, Your Highness." Kardryn said, finally remembering his manners.

Helseth locked the door behind him. It was a fruitless gesture - the Argonians would eventually break down the door - but a locked door would buy him a few extra precious moments. 

"Are you sure you want to do this, my king?" Kardryn unfortunately found his voice again, wringing his hands in agitation.

"If I wasn't I would have had you executed a long time ago." Helseth bared his teeth at the terrified mer. "Necromancy is illegal in Morrowind, remember?"

"But why here? Why now?" Kardryn burst out. "Why not escape and I can perform the same youth spells the Telvanni magisters use!"

"Those doddering old fools." Helseth growled, more to himself. "They are powerful, very powerful, but they don't use it. They hide in their mushroom towers and ignore the world around them. This will make me more powerful than any of them can imagine. When they realize my power they will bow to me like they should have long ago. Everyone will bow to me."

"My Lord?" Kardryn hesitated as the narrow passage finally opened into a chamber. It was small but cluttered full of books, alchemy tools and strange trinkets. Torn and crumpled parchment littered the floor and soul gems spilled out of a bowl and all over the packed table. Strange glowing symbols were haphazardly drawn all over the walls and the floor. At any other time Kardryn would have happily settled to look over the room, especially since Helseth would have managed to get his hands on ingredients, trinkets and tomes Kardryn himself would have only dreamed of seeing. Any other moment but this one. There were Argonians above him and Helseth beside him. He strongly suspected he had a better chance with the Argonians. 

Helseth pulled out a small wooden chest. It was handsomely carved, made of imported wood and bound with gold and silver. Kardryn let out a small moan of fear when he saw the box. This was truly real. Horrifyingly, agonizingly, truly real. The box popped open and strange symbols seemed to slither out of the box though they stayed within the grain of the wood itself. The box was empty otherwise. 

"Begin." Helseth ordered. 

Kardryn had no choice but to obey. It was wrong, the whole process was wrong, but his protests had landed on deaf ears. Helseth would never listen. The king wanted immortality but he didn’t want to take the correct steps to insure it. What Kardryn was about to do was breaking every rule but Helseth was one for cutting the proverbial knot instead of untying it. It made him a great king but a lazy being. He began the incantations, slicing his hand with a dagger and tracing the symbols in the floor with his blood. He could feel his magicka building with every word, a powerful thrumming within him. 

It felt wrong. 

He knew this spell, every necromancer worth his salt knew this spell, but as his intentions became clear, he could feel the very nature of the spell rebel against him. There was not what this spell was designed to do. In retaliation, it began to pull from his own soul, draining him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop now. 

Magic changing a body was not a pretty thing, especially such a violent, drastic change such as this. Kardryn shut his eyes as the changes began but he couldn’t block out the noises. Bones snapped and skin ripped. Kardryn dared a small peek and saw Helseth’s body was horribly twisted midair, his head thrown back and his mouth open to scream but the muscles twisting on itself strangled any noise before it could escape. His skin was split, exposing the inner workings of his body as it all reorganized itself. He squeezed his eyes shut again. He felt sick. 

As abruptly as it began, it was over. Helseth was dropped to the floor, where he curled up into a crouch. Kardryn, panting for breath, grasped at the wall behind him, both for support and to desperately be away from the thing on the floor. He had no idea what he had just created but the very air around him was suddenly constricting. This was not some simple body raising he had just done, this was not the usual twisting of the laws of nature; he had just taken the laws of nature and obliterated them entirely. There was more evil concentrated in this room than all the cursed places in Morrowind. Clanging from above brought him from his reverie. He remembered that they were still under attack. The Argonians had finally turned their attention to the locked door. 

"My King!" Kardyrn gasped out. "They're here!"

"I know." Helseth's voice echoed strangely in the small chamber. He rose up from the floor, rising higher than he had before. Kardryn flinched. 

"We need to escape." If he could escape this hell, he could possibly recover. At the very least he could escape to die somewhere more preferable. Anywhere other than here. Anywhere away from Helseth.

"Escape?" Helseth bared his teeth. Kardryn had to look away. "There was never any escape."

"But you said..."

"You were never going to live, Kardryn." Helseth said. "No one will know of this until I am ready. Surely you knew that?"

"I won't tell anyone!" the Altmer pleaded desperately. 

"No. You will not."

Argonians burst into the chamber. Above the screams, both Argonian and mer, came maniacal, exalting laughter.

Nevano blinked as the vision faded, his mind struggling to keep up with what he had just seen. He had been Helseth, he had been the necromancer, Kardryn. He had seen the horrible ritual of turning Helseth into a lich, which left him feeling dirty and uneasy. He wanted to find a way to scrub the memory from his mind. 

"You insolent n'wah!"

Nevano scooped up the soul and spun around to face Helseth, who, despite being spitting mad, was reluctant to attack him now that he was holding the soul. His arm had completely burned away from Nerevar's attack. Black sludge oozed from the ruined remains of the limb while the skin still curled and smoldered. 

"You cheated." Nevano said flatly. "Like Vivec and the rest of the Tribunal, like Dagoth Ur, you cheated to gain your power."

"Power is power." Helseth spat. "Most of the world is too weak or stupid to get it and keep it. I succeeded where they failed."

Nevano didn’t point out that Vivec, Sotha Sil, Almalexia and Dagoth Ur were all dead, two of them by his own hand. He didn’t point out that most figures in history that stole power ended up dying rather horrific deaths. He didn’t mention that Helseth himself was, technically, already dead from his pursuit in power. He was done talking. He wanted to end this. A rash thought entered his mind. Nerevar wouldn’t have approved in the slightest but Nerevar was silent. There was nothing to stop him from rash, stupid ideas. 

He shoved the ball of light back into the lich’s chest. 

Both of them screamed, Helseth from the sudden collapse of power within his body and Nevano as the soul burned his hand, sending lightning bolts of pain shooting down his arm. He couldn’t release it. It held his hand fast as it slowly buried its way through Helseth’s chest. The lich’s skin cracked and flaked as the light crawled along his veins, the purity of the severed soul burning away the evil magic that permeated the twisted body. The light didn’t distinguish between the two bodies connected to it. Only when the orb had sunk fully into Helseth’s chest did it release his hand. 

Nevano fell to his knees, clutching at his burning, smoking hand. Helseth continued to writhe as his own soul burned his body. He shriveled inside his own skin, shrinking down back to the size of an actual mer. What little of his leathery skin that hadn’t burned grew soft again. The animalistic howling that had made the hair on the back of Nevano’s neck stand up became tamer. When the transformation ended, there was an actual Dunmer curled on the floor, small, shriveled and pathetic. Helseth had returned, mostly, back to what he truly was: a weak, powerless, old man. He looked up at Nevano with bloodshot pleading eyes. 

"I'll...live?"

"No." Nevano shakily got to his feet, picking up Hopesfire. “Gods no.” 

Hopesfire, the sword of mercy, sliced cleanly through the weak mer’s neck. Blood, actual red blood that had too long been absent this whole trip, spouted from the severed stump as Helseth’s head, still with the pleading expression on his face, rolled across the floor. Hopesfire’s flame flared as it came into contact with blood. Nevano liked to think that the bright burn was purifying the evil body it had just come into contact with. 

Nevano stood a moment, panting for air as he stared down at the ruined husk crumpled on the ground, his burned left arm hanging limply at his side. He grunted quietly and picked up his scattered weapons. Finally it was over. It was silent once again, the hum of magic energy draining from the room rapidly. 

That silence bothered him. He couldn’t feel Nerevar at all. The place he had once occupied was cold and quiet. The old fool wouldn’t have condemned himself to oblivion just for this, would he? Nevano looked down at Bonebiter with its broken string. Something had broken inside him while Helseth had pinned him down. He had thought that it had been his soul being pulled free but…could it instead have been Nerevar breaking free? Nevano sighed. He didn’t know what to think and he was too sore and tired to be able to go over it properly. Besides, he needed to face the undoubtedly irate young Dunmer outside to tell them that Helseth was dead. He was confident he could think up of a suitable outrageous explanation to fluster Veleth enough to sputter out his rage but he wasn’t so sure about Nevusa. A small flutter of pride filled him at that thought. 

A small tremor beneath his feet made him freeze, one foot suspended mid-air. The floor trembled again, this time accompanied by dust being shaken from the ceiling. He frowned when it subsided, a prickle of alarm running down his spine. It picked up again, with more intensity and this time it didn’t end. He heard crashing and a quick glance out the window showed that the suspended boulders and debris from the courtyard were now falling back to earth. The entire royal palace was trembling now. Without Helseth’s power to keep the place up, it was all finally collapsing. 

Nevano ran; rotted wood and broken stone rained down all around him. He scrambled down the collapsed floor to the floor below, to the old reception room, ignoring the pain from his injuries. He knew there would be a door that led to the basement. From there he could escape into the sewers. It would be safer that way than taking his chance the way he came in, though not by much. There was still a very real chance that he would be buried alive by debris. The ground heaved and buckled, sending him tumbling head over heels across the room. It was only by a stroke of luck that he crashed against the door to the basement. 

It was pitch dark in the basement, only the light from Trueflame and Hopesfire glowing at his hips allowed him to see where he was going. It wasn’t much but it was just enough to keep him from falling flat on his face in the dark. He wracked his memory, trying to think where the sewer grate was. He had never actually used this particular sewer grate but knew it was there from listening to bored guards gossip to each other. 

A loud crack made him look up. Plaster and dirt rained down on him as the ceiling cracked in half, allowing dim light from above to filter down. Only a few stubborn rafters kept the entire ceiling from caving in. However, he had just enough light to see the sewer entrance towards the back of the room. 

He dove for the hatch just as the walls around him buckled and gave way. 

XxXxXx

The clash of weapons echoed through the empty streets of Godsreach, shattering the empty stillness. Sparks flew when the bladed head of the Autarch’s polearm struck Veleth’s axe. Veleth grunted at the unexpected strength of the hit, shifting his weight forward ever so slightly to give him more leverage. He growled in pure frustration when the Andas didn’t even shift an inch. 

The beast in him roared furiously. It didn’t like being at a disadvantage like this and Veleth had to reluctantly agree with it. He had gotten used to being the most skilled, had fallen into that pitfall of lassitude that came with being without a decent challenge every now and then. It gnawed at his pride that he couldn’t seem to get the better of one old mer. It made him want the see the mer dead at his feet all the more.

Weapons clashed again and he threw his whole weight behind his strike, leaning into the crossed weapons and forcing the Autarch to push his weight forward to keep from being pushed backwards. As soon as Veleth felt the push of resistance, he abruptly released and spun sideways. The Autarch stumbled forward past him, completely off balance. The polearm, unwieldy when off balance, clattered to the ground. Before Veleth could drive in for a strike that would undoubtedly cause some damage, Andas dove into a roll and came up back on balance, drawing his scimitar and blocking the deadly strike. 

Veleth growled in annoyance, feeling cheated of the blood he craved. Still he dove back in again, feeling far more on even ground now that the polearm was out of the fight. He fell into a more familiar rhythm, waiting to see if an opportunity would arise. 

Arise it did. While the Autarch was highly skilled, he was no longer young. The unnatural grip on his mind demanded endless energy but the body it controlled was not dead. It was very much alive and had limited energy, made even more limited by his advanced age. Veleth was much younger. He might not be able to beat him outright, but he could outlast him. 

The next hit he could feel a slight give, a barely there tremble that he could feel through his weapon as clear as if he had been shaken. Veleth let out a triumphant noise. He was going to win. He was going to soak the ground with the Autarch's blood. Finally a worthy kill, a worthy sacrifice. He drove Andas' sword arm wide and drove his shoulder into the older mer's chest, knocking him flat to the ground. His heart starting pounding with anticipation. This was it. This was the moment. He raised his weapon, ready to bring it down and end this once and for all. 

Something collided into him, wrapping around his shoulders, throwing him off balance and holding back his arms to prevent him from striking. "You aren't supposed to kill him, you stupid fetcher!" A female voice roared in his ear. 

He made to throw the infuriating interruption off of him, his prey was still on the ground, he still had time to deliver the killing blow, but sharp teeth clamped down on one long, sensitive ear. He roared in pain and outrage, jerking his head away. Now he was mad. Now she had gained his full attention. He moved to pry the interloper off his back - she would die for interrupting - but a fork thrust over his shoulder and was buried deep into the back of his hand. The sharp, sudden pain made his fingers loosen their grip on his weapon. 

"Bastard!" The maddening creature on his back screaming, twisting the fork and making him wince. "Stop giving in to blood lust and use whatever is left of your stupid, little mind! Snap out of it!" She punctuated her words with a swift box to his bleeding ear. 

Veleth's head swam. She packed a punch that one. Even the bloodthirsty monster had to admit that. Speaking of which, he felt the iron grip of his blood-thirst loosen. Cheated of its prey and humiliated by the intefereance, it slunk back into the recesses of his mind to sulk, leaving him to deal with the resulting mess on his own. He blinked and shook his head, feeling as though he had just woken up from a night of heavy drinking. Then everything came rushing back to him in horrible clarity. 

"Nevusa!" He gasped, her name finally surfacing through his jumbled thoughts. "Get off!"

"You can't kill him! This whole thing will be wasted if you do!"

"I'm not going to kill him but he's going to kill both of us if you don't get off of me!" Veleth bellowed back at her, trying to wrench his arm out of her surprisingly strong grip as he watched Andas get to his feet. 

"What? Oh...uh oh." Nevusa gulped, then yelped as Veleth dodged a strike from the scimitar, tightening her grip around his neck. 

"This is difficult to do with you on my back!" Veleth growled, doing his best to counter with limited range of motion and extra weight throwing his balance off. 

"Stop swinging around then!"

Veleth felt his left eye twitch in annoyance as he clumsily blocked another strike. "If I stop then he will slice us to ribbons. You jump off!"

“I’ve been tossed around by morons enough today!”

He growled, his annoyance building back up again. Infuriating woman. She took perfectly after her sire. The beast poked its head up hopefully but Veleth growled even louder, squashing it back into its hold. He didn’t have time to deal with annoying mer and anger rage monsters while he was trying not to get killed by one of the most skilled Dunmer fighters in the world. 

The next swipe he couldn’t move back fast enough and the tip of the scimitar sliced his forehead open. Blood dripped down his face but he couldn’t spare even a moment to swipe it out of his eyes. He could only grit his teeth against the sting of it. 

“Let go! He’s interested in me, not you.” Veleth yelled in pure frustration. “You need to get out of here.”

Nevusa finally loosened her hold around his neck and nimbly dropped by a low crumbled wall, drawing her weapons. “I can help you. I’m not leaving you alone!”

“No! Tell Garil. He needs to be ready if Andas kills me. We can’t both be killed and leave them unaware.” He hesitated as he remembered something. “And get that damned scroll!”

She wanted to argue, he could see if very clearly in the way she sucked in a breath but when the next block pushed him back almost fully on his haunches, she changed her mind. She turned and ran without another word. Finally, he thought. He didn’t know how many more powerful hits like that he could take to convince her to go. Andas was strong. Almost too strong. Veleth had no doubt to Nevusa’s skill but he didn’t want her to be seriously hurt by a single blow. He glanced over to make sure she made it safely away. 

The distraction cost him dearly. An armored fist, still gripping the scimitar, collided into his face. He felt his nose crack and blood splatter across his face. Everything went white as pain exploded in his head. He was starting to get real sick of being hit in the head like this. 

His vision cleared just in time to see his weapon clatter to the ground behind Andas. He had no way to get to it without going through the possessed Autarch. “Stupid idea...” He grunted thickly to himself, but then again, this whole journey had been built on a stupid idea. Maybe he had been hit in the head one too many times today but he was seeing that the stupid ideas seemed to be working more than the sane ideas as of late. He was never going to tell Nevano about this. 

He spit out a mouthful of blood and charged right at the Autarch. Just as the older mer swung his sword at him, Veleth dove to the ground in a roll to end up behind the Autarch. He scooped up his axe and pivoted on his foot as soon as it touched the ground, lashing out wildly. Andas jerked backwards. Finally, blood that wasn’t his sprayed on his face. It was about damn time. To his astonishment, Andas shrugged off the nasty wound like it was nothing. He barely seemed to notice the blood running down his arm. Veleth snorted blood out of his nose. Apparently the possession made Andas disregard all pain and injuries. That hit should have rendered that arm useless. If that was the case, then he wouldn’t be able to beat the mer into submission. He was just going to have to last until Nevano finished in the palace. 

“Bull! I got the scroll!” Nevusa burst through the gates between Godsreach and the plaza, wildly waving the final scroll above her head. Veleth didn’t realize how far they had migrated in their fight. 

Veleth grunted, barely able to spare her any attention. Keeping the skilled Ordinator at bay was taking all his concentration, especially now that he had landed a blow. That seemed to have angered Andas, making him redouble his efforts to run Veleth through, just as strong in his injured arm as he was before. At least this would be over soon. 

“Hold!” A Redoran soldier ran after her. “Churl, wait! The other Ordinators are starting to go back under.”

Veleth felt his heart freeze, images of those empty, flat eyes flashing through his mind. All of them were concentrated in one spot. Even if they weren’t armed, it could only end badly. He glanced over through the open gate and saw the Redoran soldiers shifting uneasily as the Ordinators began to act oddly. 

“Veleth, get Andas over here!”

“There’s no time.” Veleth grunted, his weapon locked with Andas’, trying very hard not to be pushed back on his heels. “Use the scroll before they get back under Helseth’s control. We can’t handle another major conflict and not lose someone.”

“But Andas…”

“I’ll hold him off the rest of the day if I have to.” Veleth said with far more confidence than he felt. In reality he probably could have managed to lead the Autarch over to the group and attempt to free him but there was a nagging feeling in his gut that the scroll’s feeble power wouldn’t work on Andas. This man was the crown jewel. If power was going to be concentrated anywhere, it would be on Andas. Veleth didn’t want the highly skilled and very deadly mer in the dead center of everyone. Nevusa nodded and ran off, much to his relief. 

Autarch Andas had apparently decided he was done playing around. Veleth soon found himself using every bit of skill and every trick he knew just to keep the mer at bay. Nevano needed to hurry up. Despite his earlier bravado, there was no way he could keep this up all day, much less for the next hour. 

The scimitar cut across his abdomen. The only thing stopping his guts from spilling all over the street was his faithful bonemold armor, which cracked under the strain. Despite not being gutted like a roast pig, the sheer power behind the blow made it still feel like he had been punched in the stomach, making him double over. He saw the punch coming but he wasn't in the position to be able to move quickly. He did however have enough time to think up of a nasty curse before he was struck full in the jaw. Pain lit up in his head like an explosion and the force of it sent shock waves up and down his spine, whiting out his vision and shocking his limbs into momentary paralysis. He crashed onto his back. In a flash, the Autarch was on him, the sword flipping around and coming at his throat. Veleth struggled clumsily, still trying to recover his breath. He managed to grab Andas' sword hand, gaining just enough control to stop the thrust that was aimed for his exposed throat. For a long moment they struggled but Veleth was at a distinct disadvantage on his back. Blood and sweat stung his eyes, partially blinding him, making him fight purely by feel. Then his wrist was flipped and he realized he was in trouble.

All Andas had to do was twitch his hand and the razor sharp sword would slice the vulnerable skin of his neck. Already he could see Andas’ hand tighten on the hilt. Idly he wondered how long he could survive with a slit throat. He had been run through before; the trick was to keep breathing, though breathing would be quite a bit harder with a slit throat. The tendons in the older man’s arm twitched. Veleth refused to close his eyes. If he was going to die like a gutted guar, he would do it being stubbornly defiant. The sword began its flight to his neck and Veleth braced himself. 

The blow never came. Veleth grimaced as the edge touched his skin. He glanced up to see the older mer blinking at him as if he had never seen him before, his eyes clear and very, very confused. 

“What in the hell?” Andas stared hard at him. 

“Can we discuss this without a sword at my throat?” Veleth did not bother to hide his sigh of relief as the sword moved away. He released his hold on the Autarch and allowed himself to slump back, his remaining energy bleeding out of him along with the pounding rush of adrenaline, hardly able to believe it. It was over. Andas was no longer possessed. He was free. He was…Veleth’s eyes snapped open and he swiped uselessly at the blood on his face. “He did it. That little fetcher did it. You’re no longer possessed! If you’re no longer possessed then he did it!”

“Boy, what are you talking about?”

“Nevano! He…” Veleth didn’t have time to explain the very confused Autarch. He scrambled to his feet and spun around to face the palace. The green light was swirling madly but it was getting thinner. It twisted madly, fighting the invisible force pulling it away but inevitably was drawn up and away. 

A cheer went up from Redoran and Ordinator alike as the green light slithered into the air and dissipated. Veleth smiled along with the rest of them but his gaze went to the gates, waiting for Nevano to walk back through, mentally urging him to hurry. Each passing second he did not, the ball of anxiety in his gut grew. Nevano could take care of himself, Veleth knew this of course, but he also was very well aware that Nevano attracted trouble. The longer he took to emerge, the greater the trouble he likely was in grew. 

Veleth took a step towards the palace, willing his exhausted body forward, determined to go find the small mer and drag him out himself. His earlier adrenaline rush was fading, leaving him feeling every cut, bump and bruise. His broken nose and cracked jaw throbbed in tandem with his heartbeat, adding to his growing headache. That had easily been one of the most grueling fights in his life and his battered body was screaming at him to just hit the ground. 

“Bull, what are you doing?” Nevusa appeared at his side. She had the same uncanny ability to appear and disappear as her father did. Interesting to see how she inherited that trait without ever having met him before now. “You are bleeding all over the place, by the gods look at your nose! You need to sit.”

“He hasn’t come out yet.” Veleth said, shaking his head. Nevusa nodded but she didn’t move out of his way. 

“Give him a moment. He’ll show up.” Nevusa tugged at his arm. Veleth ignored her and took another step forward, dragging the smaller woman along with him. She growled and dug her heels in. “What is wrong with you boys that you have to go diving into places you damn well shouldn’t, you stubborn son of a guar? I didn’t think I punched you in the head hard enough to make you stupid. Just what do you plan on doing when you can barely see straight?”

That made him stop and glance over at her. He opened his mouth to answer her but was rudely interrupted when the ground shuddered beneath their feet. He struggled a little keep his balance, Nevusa grabbing his arm to keep them both from toppling over completely. Then, as quickly as it had come, the shaking stopped. Veleth looked back up at the equally confused woman next to him. “What in Azura’s name…?”

“This area isn’t known for earthquakes.” She said slowly. “Maybe Red Mountain is erupting again?”

“There was no more smoke than usual when we went to see that witch.” Veleth reminded her. 

“Then I don’t -” Nevusa cut herself off with a yelp as the ground shook again, far angrier this time. 

A loud crack made them both look up. The spires of the palace began to rock and pieces of the dilapidated towers began to fall. Massive cracks appeared in the walls as they shifted and started to crumble. Fissures traced themselves in the ground. They were, Veleth realized, coming from the palace. The source of the earthquake was the palace itself. Where Tamriel’s most infuriating dark elf was still running around. He didn’t want to have to dig Nevano out. He tried to take another step but there was another massive crack and the foundation of the palace split in half. It held a moment, and then the walls crumbled.

“Bull!” Nevusa slammed into his side, knocking him off his feet just as the palace collapsed in on itself. The last thing he saw before the rush of dust and debris rolled over them was Nevusa throwing herself on top him. 

XxXxXx

A/N: It has been a very long few months. It’s been…five months? Four months? Five entirely too long months. Last semester was the hardest I have ever worked in my entire educational career and I think that professor took a rather sadistic delight in seeing the burned out looks on her students’ faces. After that semester was over, I did nothing but sleep for a month. I got no writing done. Once I managed to (mostly) shake off the burnout, I tried to write again...only to find that I could not get a damn thing out. So here we are, five months, insanely difficult classes, stolen fics (yes, that happened. So lovely.), writer’s block and a few binge sessions of Hulu later, we have a new chapter! The good news is that because I had such intense writer’s block for this chapter, I moved on and wrote ahead. The next few chapters are half finished now. I cannot promise there won’t be such a drastic wait again because I really want to graduate sometime within the next decade but I refuse to give up. 

Big shout out to AEsob and Ajestice for the encouragement, ideas, beta-reading and for laughing at me when the caffeine kicked in a little too hard. 

Also a shoutout to those who still reviewed/favorited/followed during the slump. Thank you very much!! I was very touched and those little alerts I got motivated me to work hard to get this bugger out. Alright, one last chapter to Kings. Hang in there y’all!


	36. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Chapter 35

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

XxXxXx

3E 427 – Clockwork City, ?

Nevano could smell the stink of death before he even entered the heart of the Clockwork City. 

He wasn’t surprised. He had been fully expecting trouble from the moment he had been transported here. He didn’t need to be attacked by hordes of strange mechanical creatures to know that the insanity he had been wading hip-deep in had seeped here, too. 

Almalexia had claimed Sotha Sil had gone insane and had taken to attacking his own people. Nevano highly doubted that claim. This was coming from the same being who had ordered an ash storm be turned on her own city to make them pray harder to her, prayers she could no longer hear. Sotha Sil, by all accounts, was a mage who would much rather keep to himself and his studies rather than look for public adoration. He probably never even noticed his divinity was gone, and would continue to be oblivious to it until the day he slumped over dead from old age finally catching up to him. He more than likely had no idea what Almalexia was up to. Nevano was not looking forward to the undoubtedly awkward conversation with the Tinkerer. 

Idly, Nevano marveled at how differently the Tribunal had handled the fall of their divinity. As much as he didn’t like Vivec, he had to give the mer credit on how calmly he had simply accepted the end, even encouraged it. Perhaps he, unlike the others, didn’t delude himself with the thought it would be forever? He had to have known, they all had to have some idea, especially with the foresight that came with the divine powers. So why had Almalexia gone mad, then? Was the reality of it far harder to accept than a vision? Had she hoped to change that vision? That was a sobering thought. Vivec had given Nevano Wraithguard freely. Would Almalexia have done the same, knowing that it would end her divine rule? He honestly couldn’t say. 

As he pushed open the door to Sotha Sil’s abode, the stench of death and decay hit him so hard he gagged, his stomach threatening to turn itself inside out. The smell hung in the air almost tangibly; he could nigh feel it coating the exposed skin of his face and arms in an oily film. Then he saw it. 

Sotha Sil hung in the center of the room by cables and coils that wrapped around his limbs and torso. He had obviously hung there a long while; his body had rotted to the point where it was simply falling apart. Already his lower body was sloughing off, his blackened insides dripping out into a thick, viscous puddle on the floor. His head was thrown back, his swollen tongue hanging out, his twisted expression frozen into a death mask of agony...and sadness? 

Nevano braved a step closer. Sotha Sil’s nails were grossly overgrown, far too long for mere personal negligence. Metal bars were attached to his back, nothing that he would have been able to do to himself. There were cuts on his body that looked as if they had scabbed over; those scabs wouldn’t be there if they had happened when he died. He couldn’t have done this to himself. What could have possibly...the realization of what happened hit Nevano like a ton of bricks. 

“You poor fetcher.” he murmured. “She caught you completely off guard, didn’t she? How long has she kept you chained up here? Since I killed Dagoth Ur months ago? Before then? After you two lost Keening and Sunder?” Nevano sighed and stepped back from the body. “I’d apologize for not getting here sooner but, judging by the smell and how you are all over the floor, you’ve been dead since I stepped foot in Mournhold. Not sure what Almalexia is planning but...this can only end bloody.”

Nevano turned back towards the door. There was nothing he could do for Sotha Sil and he certainly didn’t want to push any buttons or levers in this place for fear of causing the whole place to turn on him...well, more so than it was already. He had to find Almalexia and stop her before she, in her madness, could turn against the whole of Mournhold and kill innocent people. Before he had taken a step, Nerevar, who had remained suspiciously silent the whole time, suddenly flared up in alarm. Nevano froze, every nerve in his body lighting up with a primal sense of alertness. The predator was coming. 

Almalexia appeared in a flash of blue light, dressed in a battle mask and a beautifully curved sword hanging from her slim waist. Through the slits in her mask, Nevano could see the bright gleam of madness in her eyes. He licked his lips nervously, his heart pounding. He knew that sword, thanks to stories and Nerevar’s description; Hopesfire, twin to Trueflame that hung at his own side. If Hopesfire was here, then Almalexia was prepared for a fight. So he was right in his assumption that the ending to this meeting could only go one way. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at being right this time. 

“Nerevarine. You live. You still live.” She wrung her hands in agitation and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Here it ends, here it ends. This Clockwork City was to be your death. You were to be my greatest martyr! The heroic Nerevarine, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil. But you live! You live!”

Nevano felt his stomach twist as he watched her mutter and pace. There was no question about her madness, now. There also was no question about whether or not she wanted him dead. She had hoped that Sotha Sil’s creations, running amok now that their master was dead, would have killed him but, like Dagoth Ur, she had grossly underestimated him. Nerevar, skill, and an extraordinary amount of luck had kept him alive. At this point, he wasn’t fully convinced if it was bad luck or good luck. 

“Fear not. I will tell the tale myself when this is done. I will tell my people how, with your dying breath, you proclaimed your devotion to me, the one true god.” Her voice rose in exaltation, excited by her own illusion. “Your death will end this prophecy and unite my people once again under one god, one faith, one rule by my divine law. The puppet king will lay down his arms and bow to my will. Those who do not yield will be destroyed.”

Nevano straightened up at that. He didn’t like prophecies, and absolutely hated the prophecy that had jailed him and dictated his life the past year or so, but it was his prophecy. It was his to carry out and his to end. Almalexia was trying to remove him and take his place in his own gods damned prophecy. Only instead of wanting to see everyone free of fear, Almalexia was essentially setting herself up to be the next Dagoth Ur. Nevano couldn’t let that happen. His hand drifted to Trueflame’s hilt and gripped it tight. The sword warmed beneath his hand, as ready as he was to fight. 

“The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place.” Almalexia continued to ramble on, oblivious to Nevano’s sudden change in mood. “Here, I slew Sotha Sil. Here, I summoned the Fabricants to attack Mournhold. I will be the savior of my people! I, alone, will be their salvation!” 

“No.” Nevano snapped angrily, making Almalexia look at him in surprise that he dare interrupt her. “How stupid can you be? You, Vivec, Sotha Sil...you are so gods rotting stupid that you are willing to become the next Dagoth Ur and you don’t see anything wrong with it! By now, me laying out how stupid this...this shite idea of yours is will just go over your head, so I’m not even going to try. But I won’t let you do this. You’ll have to go through me, first.” 

“None may stand in my way!” Almalexia screeched. “Not you, and certainly not Vivec. He is a poet, a fool. I will deal with him when I have finished with you. And Sotha Sil…he always thought himself our better, shunning us, locking himself in his hole. He spoke not a word as he died. Not a whisper. Even in death, he mocked me with his silence. But I think you will scream, my love. For now, you face the one true god.”

The curved sword at Almalexia’s side snapped out in a flash of blue fire, but Nevano was ready for it. Weeks of living in paranoia and suspicion had prepared him for this moment. As soon as Almalexia had started to move, he had Trueflame waiting for the first blow and, for the first time in thousands of years, the two swords reunited in a thunderous embrace.

However, something curious happened as soon as the blades crossed. Where Trueflame touched Hopesfire, the blue flame that engulfed the elegant blade shrank away. It took a moment for the significance to sink into Nevano’s mind; the sword wants nothing to do with Almalexia’s insanity. 

Almalexia flinched backwards in surprise at her sword’s reluctance. She disengaged and fell back, holding Hopesfire before her. The blue flames flickered moodily. “You will obey me!” Almalexia snapped. Instead of burning brighter, the flames simply winked out of existence. The goddess growled in annoyance and dove back at her foe with the darkened blade. 

Nevano wasted no pity on her. Indeed he had none. He parried the strike as it came to his face and drove for a strike of his own. Almalexia, despite how deep she was in her own insanity, was still a talented fighter with thousands of years experience in fighting and war. They traded blows and strikes and parries for what felt like hours, neither breaking through the other’s defenses despite some near misses. 

Finally, in sheer frustration and impatience, Almalexia clenched her left hand, gathering her magicka for a nasty spell. Nevano could smell the scent of rain in the air and the exposed skin of his arms tingled as energy built up. Lightning. She was planning on striking him with a powerful lightning spell. This was no gentle spell like Drelasa threw at him in rebuke for one insolence or another. One hit from a spell this powerful meant instantaneous death. She raised her hand up high, small bolts of electricity dancing between her fingers. 

Nevano saw his opening and dove in. One sweep knocked Hopesfire wide, throwing the goddess off balance and leaving her exposed. Then Trueflame drove into the exposed flesh of Almalexia’s belly and angled up to exit out her back between her shoulder blades, the wickedly sharp blade popping through internal organs easily and splintering bone like dry twigs. Blood sprayed from the horrendous wound, coating Nevano and making Trueflame hiss. Behind the mask, Almalexia’s eyes went wide. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a wet gurgle, and blood ran down her neck from under the mask. Trueflame was viciously pulled free and Almalexia staggered back several steps, the spell dissipating instantly, before collapsing to the floor, blood quickly spreading around her in a massive pool. 

Nevano carefully nudged Hopesfire away from Almalexia’s reach, but he knew there was no hope she could retaliate against him. Her limbs had lost all voluntary mobility and were twitching uselessly as her life ebbed from her. He knelt down next to her and carefully removed her mask. Blood was bubbling up from her throat in her mouth and spilling over. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out. Her eyes darted back and forth, the pupils narrowed to a pinpoint. He said nothing, just watched as the light slowly faded from her eyes. There was nothing left to say. Not even Nerevar had anything to say to his once wife. Words were worthless at this point. There was nothing that would ease the pain for the betrayed, and there was nothing that would forgive the betrayers. There was no satisfaction in this ending, just the knowledge that it was over. 

Nevano picked up Hopesfire. The blade flickered with a blue light as soon as his fingers touched it, Trueflame answering with a flicker of its own. The twin blades were reunited again and Nevano made a silent promise to himself that they would never part again. The blades were a representation of all that should have been that was destroyed through ambition and madness. What a strange world, where a tool designed to destroy held more promise of hope and unity than the ones who wielded it. Then again, Nevano didn’t know how to describe normal, anymore. 

He secured both swords at his hips and straightened up. It was time to go. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 23rd Hearthfire - Mournhold, Morrowind

The first thing Veleth became aware of was the smell of dust. He could feel it coating him like a second skin. He could feel the grit rolling between his teeth, in his eyes and his nose. Then the scent of leather and sweat came in strong on his second whiff. Something moved on top of him and he remembered Nevusa throwing herself over him just as the palace collapsed and a wave debris buried them. He appreciated it, but it was all entirely unnecessary…

His face was pressed against Nevusa’s chest. The blood drained from his face as he realized that when they had fallen, they had landed just perfectly so that they were both cushioned from the fall. Her light leather armor left almost nothing to his imagination, especially pressed against him like that. To his mounting humiliation, his heart rate rose in spite of himself. 

Above him, Nevusa grunted, and he could hear debris rolling off somewhere. He squeezed his eyes shut and just waited for her to get off of him, sending a quick prayer to every god and goddess he could think of that she wouldn’t move around so much against him. Thank Azura he wore heavy armor...or curse it. He couldn’t quite decide that, yet. He could do nothing about his pointed ears, which he knew were flushed a bright red and, going by how his luck was going, perfectly visible through the dust coating them. 

“Well, hello there, handsome.” He opened his eyes and recoiled sharply into the debris under him when he realized she had shifted and was in his face, their noses nearly touching, her red and yellow eyes like a burst of sun in his face. “Aww, the big, strong, shy type.”

Oh, this situation could not get more humiliating. He desperately wished the ground would just open up and swallow him right now. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words refused to leave his throat. 

“Poor thing. Never thought you would get tongue-tied like some cunt-struck youngling.”

Veleth was fairly certain his tongue had just given up and wandered off, never to be seen again. He had no recourse and couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would not make this situation even worse than it already was. Thankfully, before he had to endure another moment of mortifying torment, one god or another decided to take mercy on him. Sunlight opened up above them as debris was cleared away.

“Churl, get up off him.” A gruff voice ordered. 

“Yessir!” Nevusa said, far too cheerfully for just being dug out of a collapsed palace, and pushed herself up off Veleth’s chest. 

Veleth grunted as the air was forced from his lungs and stayed where he was, staring up at the dust-colored sky. It would take a long while for the dust to settle from the air, but he could tell that the sky was blue beyond the haze of grey-yellow. The clouds had cleared, the green light was gone, the sounds of fighting were gone and the overall feeling of death and despair had left. Veleth allowed himself to relax, letting the tight tension he had held in for the past several days, and the more recent humiliation, to bleed from his muscles. Finally, he could allow himself to believe it: they had won. 

“C’mon, boy, get up.” Veleth grunted as a hand grabbed the front of his battle-ruined cuirass and hauled him to his feet. He swayed a little, the past full day’s worth of fighting and getting beat up finally taking their toll. Now that he was back on his feet, he could feel the full extent of his injuries and exhaustion. The rough hand steadied him, keeping him from falling face-first back into the hole he had just been drug out from. His head cleared just enough for him to realize General Garil was glaring at him, as if daring him to keel over. Veleth stubbornly locked his knees. 

“I can’t believe you just went toe-to-toe with possibly the most skilled warrior I know of. Don’t tell the smug fetcher I said that, though.” Garil frowned, critically looking over the very obvious and still bleeding wounds on Veleth’s face. “Not without taking a beating yourself, I see. Go find one of the healers and get fixed up. You look like you got kicked in the face by a guar.”

“Any sign of Nevano, sir?” Veleth immediately brushed off all concern for himself. The less he thought about his own injuries, the less they hurt. 

Garil’s frown became decidedly more annoyed. “No. No sign of him at all. It’s too dangerous to go crawling through the bulk of the pile just yet, but I will have men looking to see if we find anything.”

Veleth nodded, though instantly regretted it when a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him down. 

“Get going before you fall over and can’t get back up again.” 

Before Veleth could argue, Nevusa snaked her arm around his and dragged him off. As drained as he was, she didn’t have to put in very much effort to make him move. The effort came in making sure he stayed on his feet. She managed to get him across the plaza to where the healer had staked out a small tent. Veleth obliged them both by crashing to the ground at their feet, his body unable to keep going despite his stubborn will trying to insist otherwise. Unfortunately for him, the healer was just as short-tempered as the general who ran the Safepoint and was none too pleased at having to drag his new, rather large and heavily-armored patient at least partially up. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled out a bottle with a liquid that was a shifty green color that Veleth took an instant dislike to, but before he could protest, the contents of the bottle were unceremoniously poured down his throat. He gagged, and would have coughed most of the potion up had the healer not shoved his head back, forcing him to swallow. The concoction burned his throat all the way to his stomach, much like a hefty mouthful of brandy. It shifted moodily in his stomach, making him feel sick. 

“There. Let that go to work. You’ll be back on your feet in a moment, though the best thing for you right now is rest.” The healer roughly poked and prodded at him while he spoke. “Most of these cuts are shallow. They’ll heal nicely on their own. Somehow, despite the swelling, your jaw isn’t broken. You would’ve been screaming when you fought me on that potion otherwise. Lucky, there. Your nose, on the other hand, you weren’t so lucky on. I’ll need to set that back in place. I’ll offer you one chance to sit still, but if you can’t and start squirming, I’m going to send you off into a nap for the next twelve hours, and you’ll be lucky if you wake up and remember where you are and haven’t pissed yourself.”

Veleth grunted his assent, too busy worrying over what the mystery potion was doing to him than to be bothered by the healer’s threats. Despite the discomfort in his gut, he could feel the strength return to his limbs, chasing away the weak shakiness there. He couldn’t say he felt rejuvenated but he certainly could stand on his own two feet and not worry about falling over. He could make it through the day, or at least make it until someone got sick of his stumbling around and shoved him face-first into a bedroll. The healer crossed his arms and tapped a foot. Veleth finally had enough sense in him to glare but pulled his knife from his boot and clamped the hilt between his teeth. 

“I never got why you boys will happily allow some stranger to beat your ass to a bloody pulp but the instant a healer has to do something mildly uncomfortable to help you, you glare and whine and generally are a pain to work with,” Nevusa mused.

Veleth muttered a few impolite, choice phrases, deliberately allowing the knife hilt in his mouth to muffle his words beyond recognition.

“That’s no way to treat a lady who’s just saved your life.” She teased, tossing her head in mock outrage. “I should make you buy me dinner in repayment.”

“I’m sorry, my dear, but this particular bull is taken by a lady in Raven Rock.” A voice interrupted them. “She won’t be very pleased with your attempts at stealing her boy away from her. I mean, she’s a sweet girl but I know she’s got a hidden temper in there somewhere.”

Veleth damn near cracked a tooth biting down hard on the knife’s hilt when he looked up to see Nevano sitting on one of the boxes nearby, idly looking over Bonebiter’s broken string. How in the hell did he not notice him walk up? More importantly, how did no one else notice? Before he could spit the knife out to begin his tirade of questions, the healer took advantage of his distraction and shoved his nose back into place. Stars exploded in his vision as cartilage snapped back into position with a nauseating crack. It hurt about as much as when Andas had initially rearranged his face. It made him forget about Nevano for a moment. Nevusa, however, was not so easily distracted.

“You FETCHER!” She screeched. Veleth’s head swam. That was not helping the pounding ache in his head. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Do you have any idea what went on out here while you went off without any sort of back up?!” Nevusa’s breathy scream rose a few octaves, making everyone in the vicinity cringe. “We thought you were dead! Veleth had to fight off Andas and we nearly lost the Ordinators and then the gods be damned palace just collapsed! We thought you were buried! Alive! Then what would we do?! How did you escape? What happened in there?! You had better tell us and it better be good!” 

“NOT in here!” The healer snapped, hauling Veleth to his feet. “You’ll live. Now get out and try not to do anything extraordinarily stupid for a while.” He turned and ran a critical eye over Nevano. 

Nevano seemed fairly unperturbed, despite having numerous cuts and burns on the exposed skin of his face and arms, and his left hand hastily wrapped in a filthy bandage. “Nothing to see here, priest. Move along to the others.” 

“You are...”

“Perfectly fine.” Nevano hopped off his perch and took the two younger mer by the arm. “Well...not. But nothing you’d be able to do about it anyway.” 

Veleth got the pleasure of seeing the healer’s face purple with rage as Nevano tugged them out into the sunshine, though he tugged his arm free once they were relatively clear of any sort of retaliation. 

“You need to explain what happened.” Veleth said bluntly. Somehow, his nose didn’t hurt quite as bad anymore. Maybe there was more to that healer’s potion than he realized. 

“And I will. Fully, with no parts left out. Mostly.” Nevano turned to them. Though he spoke easily, there was a tension in his shoulders and face that Veleth didn’t like. He could see a few of the burns across his cheek were the result of lightning magic, something he was rather familiar with thanks to his mother. Whatever had happened in the palace had not been pleasant. “But I don’t want to repeat this several times. Get Garil and we can compare stories.”

“Should probably include the autarch in on this too.” Nevusa said.

“Andas is alive?”

“Yes. I’ll go let him and Garil know you made it through alive.” Veleth turned to go but hesitated, holding one finger up. “However, just to make sure you don’t wander off again like you seem to like doing…”

A few minutes later, Veleth set off to go find the autarch and the general, a satisfied smirk on his face, the day now going considerably better. Several soldiers and Ordinators stared after him in bewilderment…though that could also be because they had just witnessed him and the Churl tying the Nerevarine to a massive bell and walking off, leaving the golden-eyed mer bellowing and cussing after the former guard captain. Yes, the day was going much better.

XxXxXx 

Nevano’s fingers worked feverishly at the rope binding him to the massive tower bell, trying to find any way to make the rope give just enough to allow him to drop free. Nevusa sat silently nearby, glaring daggers at him. It made him squirm uncomfortably but, while he regretted making her mad, he didn’t regret his decision. They would forgive him. Eventually. Hopefully. Veleth had certainly made his point rather clear. Nevano squirmed again against the tight rope, but it refused to give. Apparently, knot tying numbered among Bull’s talents. No wonder Dreyla’s father didn’t want Veleth near his daughter. 

“Huh, so they discovered a way to keep you from running off. I approve.” Nevano looked up to see General Garil watching him with a his habitual frown, though this time it was tinted with amusement.

Nevano assumed that the other mer standing next to Garil was the famed Autarch Andas, though he currently wasn’t wearing his Indoril armor. Nevano was pleased to see that he hadn’t come out of his encounter with Veleth unscathed. His left arm was bound with a bloodstained bandage and he was standing with the stiff posture of someone whose ribs had been cracked. “Glad to see everyone survived here.”

“Uh huh.” Garil hummed in agreement. “Speaking of surviving, how did you get out of that collapsing palace?”

“There was an escape in the basement to the sewers.” Nevano said, giving another futile tugs at his bounds. “Got a bit turned around in there, but as soon as I found a tunnel I recognized, I managed to find my way back to the bazaar, and here I am.”

“Here you are, indeed.” Garil sighed. “Alright, you two, let him down. As amusing as it is to see him tied up like that, I have a feeling he’s going to be a pain in the ass if we leave him up there for too long. It’s been a long enough day. I don’t feel like dealing with that.”

“I’m so glad to get your blessing to be released. Reminds me of when I was blessed by the emperor during my release in Seyda Neen.” Nevano said acidly before unceremoniously hitting the ground with a grunt. “A little warning, Veleth...”

Andas perked up then and took a closer look at the younger mer. "Veleth? Any relation to that Buoyant Armiger that used to be an Ordinator?”

The former captain nodded a little stiffly. 

Andas shook his head. "The Ordinators lost a good man in the ranks that day. My father was chief of Vivec’s Order of the Watch, at the time. He often told me that Berel Sala was going to regret letting him go so easily."

"That’s an understatement." Nevano got to his feet, brushing in vain at the dust coating him. “By the time the Ordinators had pulled their heads from their arses and realized what they’d lost, he had already proved himself on Red Mountain, and Dagoth Ur was dead. This is his bull-headed son. Kid is an even stronger fighter than his father is.”

"No kidding." Andas winced, a hand going to his bandaged arm. "Possessed or no, I've never gotten a thrashing like that before. When you are done running around for the Redoran, how about you come train my Ordinators?"

"Hands off, Temple Guard." Garil growled. "I’d lay claim to him myself, but I doubt any of us’ll be able to pry him from Relas’ cold, dead hands."

Nevano snickered as he watched Veleth become increasingly uncomfortable listening to the two older mer argue over him. It amused him greatly to see the faint flush run up Veleth's neck. He was curious to see if he could get it up his ears as well. 

"Who said I was going to let him go?" Nevano's smirk broadened when Andas and Garil turned to him. "I'm rather enjoying his company. He’s easily the most capable mer I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Think of the trouble I can get into, with him around! Morrowind's entire government will crumble!"

"You've already done that once, already." Andas accused. 

"No, I just destroyed her religion." Nevano pointed at Veleth. "I’m going to break down all those stuffy inhibitions you Redoran put in him and turn him loose. Time to see what the Bull of Stros is capable of when taken off leash!"

"Enough, enough!” Veleth finally burst out, his ears flushing fully red. “Vith, I’ve been humiliated enough for one day!”

Nevano laughed in delight at his accomplishment. “Alright, alright, all joking aside, we didn’t go crawling through old haunted sewers and a ruined palace just for a good laugh. No offense, but I didn’t run in to save Ordinators out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Right. Compensation.” Andas sighed. “I think I’ve found myself at a distinct disadvantage here. There’s nothing I can rightly say ‘no’ to, but I have nothing to give.”

“I’m not that unreasonable, despite rumors.” Nevano grinned broadly, causing everyone to grimace slightly. “This time I promise I won’t destroy everything you stand for. Stood for.” He quickly corrected himself. “In fact, this might give you a whole new direction. Do it well, and I will call us even.”

“What is it?

“Stand with me against the Thalmor.”

“The Thalmor...” Andas said.

“Yes.” Nevano quit smiling, then. “The time has come to drive them out. Would love to just go hunting them, but I was told that there needed to be some semblance of a plan and order to this. The first step was to ask the Ordinators if they would dedicate themselves to defending the people of Morrowind, to bolster their courage and sense of security. We already know the Redoran generals are itching for a chance to kick stuck-up high elf arse, but the people need to know they are safe. Unless the effectiveness of the Ordinators has waned over the decades...”

He knew then that he had the autarch hooked. Andas straightened up, instantly filled with righteous indignation. “My Ordinators have made it through the Oblivion Crisis, the Red Year, the Argonian Invasion, and this nonsense with Helseth, and have only proven their strength and determination over the years. I think we can handle Thalmor.”

“Good. Swear it.”

Andas looked as if he were trying to swallow razors. Garil sighed. “Just do it. He’s an annoying little fetcher until he gets what he wants. Annoying...but useful.”

“Fine! Fine...” The older mer sighed. “I, Athvos Andas, Autarch of the Ordinators, hereby pledge the services of the Ordinators to the Nerevarine to protect the people of Morrowind and expel the Thalmor from our great nation, in order to declare our sovereignty from the empire.”

“I happily accept your very fancy offer.” Nevano smiled happily. “Now that we got that out of the way, I have to ask the burning question that has been hanging in the air since we first arrived here in Mournhold; how in the sixteen planes of oblivion did you get sucked under Helseth’s spell?”

Andas sighed in exasperation. “Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. Not long after we reclaimed Mournhold, I became aware of Helseth’s presence. I gave the order for everyone, especially the Redoran, to avoid the palace until I could think of what to do with him. I could tell he was too strong to just banish with any of the priests we had, but I...underestimated his strength. I thought he was just a shade, a specter. I thought I had time to figure out how to banish him.”

“Tricked you, too, huh?”

“Yes. I could hear him whispering in the back of my head, but I could always repeal his advances, but then once I realized what he was...” Andas shook his head. “The rage and hatred in him was incredible. All I could think to do was protect those here, so I ordered the Redoran out. We all couldn’t fall to it. As soon as I did that, Helseth struck. I was careless. and he took full advantage of that. What I do remember is muddy. I tried to fight, but I didn’t have the strength or the ability to beat that presence out.”

“He was powerful, there’s no denying that.” Nevano looked away, thinking of how he would have been killed if not for Nerevar. “He’s gone, now. Mournhold can rebuild and many a spirit can finally rest easy. There is one thing I’m curious about, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did you tell everyone to avoid the temple?”

Andas frowned. “I never issued such an order.”

Veleth, Garil and Nevusa exchanged a look, but Nevano grunted in annoyance. 

XxXxXx

Nevano sat on the hillock, watching the sun set. Finally the brilliant show of oranges, yellows, and pinks showed through bright and clear, no more moody gray clouds covering everything up. Everything was back to normal...or as back to normal as Morrowind could possibly get at this point. He held up his left arm, looking over the black streaks that followed the network of veins under his skin. He resolved to get a glove to cover that up. Those burns were a bit too creepy to be seen on a regular basis. Unlike the scars on his back that were simply out of sight, this was nigh in his face every day. This wouldn’t necessarily be an incident he would look back on too fondly. Fortunately the most dangerous thing out right now was giant mosquitoes. 

“May I join you?” Nevano quickly dropped his lich-touched arm and turned to see the Churl walking up. 

“Sure.” He gestured to the ground next to him. He watched as she settled into the grass, her knees pulled up to her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. “I have a distinct feeling I’m in trouble.”

“Up until about an hour ago you were but...” Nevusa arms tightened around her legs. “I can see why you did it even if I still don’t agree with it.”

“I wasn’t about to let you two face that twisted soul.” Nevano said bluntly. “Yes, you two are grown, and, yes, you two can perfectly take care of yourselves but Helseth and I had a score to settle. It was nothing you and Veleth needed to be involved with. Besides, I felt confident that you could handle whatever happened out here and I was right in that.”

“You could have said mentioned that, exactly like that, before just disappearing.”

“Would you have listened to it?” Nevano smiled a little when she didn’t reply. “Sorry, my dear, but you have my blood in your veins. I know me pretty well, or at least I think I do. I would have damned the reasonable and done the stupid. We are an unreasonable lot.”

Nevusa sighed irritably and fell silent. Nevano let her have a few moments to think while he watched the sun fully set and the stars claim dominance in the sky. Then a tiny voice spoke up again. 

“Will I see you again?”

“Undoubtedly so when we fight the Thalmor off once and for all.” Nevano said. “That’s not going to be a small, quiet affair where we ask nicely and they politely leave.”

“I meant after. After all the fighting. After all this.” Sunburst eyes watched him nervously. “I don’t...you might just disappear again.”

“Even if Dagoth Ur came back from the dead and half of Tamriel was under attack by hordes of ash vampires, I’ll still come back to see you.” Nevano meant every word of that. He had let Sorosi go. He wasn’t about to let his only, supposedly impossible, child go. “I have a feeling that the future holds something that will bring us together on some sort of adventure.”

“I would like that.” Nevusa smiled and held her hands up. After a few seconds a tiny fireball formed on her palm and she began to bounce it back and forth like a child with a ball, its light causing strange shadows to dance around them. Nevano felt his jaw drop as he watched the tiny flames bounce around.

“You know magic?” Nevano asked in astonishment. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? We could have made use of that!”

“I studied it in secret.” Nevusa said. “When I was forbidden from touching a sword, I stole some books on some simple spells. Was far easier to hide than swordplay, though I one time set the kitchen on fire. Fortunately, that was blamed on someone spilling some fat, and no one found out it was me. As to not saying so sooner...I worked very hard to prove myself. No one believed that I, a noble-born woman, could fight worth anything. If they ever knew I could cast spells...I would never be able to recover my reputation with a sword. You saw how Garil is about magic. So it’s more of a hobby than anything useful.”

“Uh-huh...” Nevano clicked his teeth as a plan began to form in his mind. “So you have an affinity for the school of destruction?”

“Fit my rebellious mood, at the time.” She shrugged. 

Slowly a grin stretched across Nevano’s face. Nevusa’s hands froze, causing the tiny fireball to fall to the ground and extinguish. Even without its meager light, Nevano could still see the blanched horror growing on her face. 

“I have a great idea.” 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 24th Hearthfire - Mournhold, Morrowind

The next morning, Nevano found General Garil overseeing the beginning stages of cleaning Mournhold up. The air was much lighter, and the city, though in deplorable condition, no longer had the feeling of a haunted graveyard. There was a new feeling of hope that hadn’t been there before. He was confident that, now that Helseth was finally gone, the city could truly begin to heal and, one day, return to its former glory. He had heard several Redoran say that they had sent word out to the various villages in the surrounding country side, and many villagers were on the way to help with the reconstruction, eager to see Mournhold rise again. 

“I have to admit, I didn’t think you could pull it off.” Garil said without looking at him. “I had pretty much written you off for dead.”

“You aren’t the first to think that of me.” Nevano shrugged. “I’m not going to hold it against you. You had your soldiers to look after. Whatever me and Veleth could accomplish was just bonus.”

“Yeah, speaking of Veleth, you tell the old man to be careful. The Thalmor will get notice of this pretty quick.” Garil spat on the ground. “Don’t give me that look. I said I’m not particularly fond of secrety stuff, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pretend it doesn’t exist. I didn’t get to where I am by being oblivious. A supposedly dead hero and Morrowind’s bluntest soldier coming together to expel the Thalmor from Morrowind? That has Jorun Veleth written all over. However, I approve. You and the boy would blow it on your own. You got a good mind planning this, and you will need every bit of his devious intelligence to outsmart the Thalmor.”

“How much of your approval do I really have in this?” Nevano asked. “When I talked to you and Andas earlier, you didn’t say much.”

“Smarter than you look.” The gruff general nodded. “There are many strings attached to this, some of which I simply can’t promise, because I am bound by the laws the Redoran have laid down. I don’t have a magic gut that predicts the future. By the gods, I couldn’t even see this happening, and it was all right under my nose. But…I feel very confident in saying that if you can carry out whatever crazy plan that old Armiger has in mind, you can get those stuffy councilors to agree to pushing the Thalmor out. That will then free up the Redoran army, and we will come running to that battle horn.”

“Don’t get comfortable here, then.” 

“I would love a chance at the Thalmor. They’re even more annoying than the Imperial soldiers that used to be garrisoned around here. They keep looking down their noses at us they’ll go cross-eyed. Don’t think they ever forgave us for leaving, all those millennia ago.” 

“I think you’ll get that chance.” Nevano smiled and started to turn but paused, fluttering one hand in the air. “Oh! Before I forget…no one is patrolling by the temple are they?”

“No. None of them are brave enough to go near it, still. The Ordinators are telling ghost stories and the fools are spooked.”

“Oh, good!” Nevano gave a broad grin, one that made Garil frown heavily in suspicion. 

“What did y-.” Garil was cut off when a massive explosion rocked the entire city. Soldiers and Ordinators cried out and ran for cover as the ground shuddered, as if in pain. The sweeping white spire of Almalexia’s temple, seen clearly from their vantage point across the city now that the palace was no longer in the way, seemed to jump in the air. Then the rest of the temple crumpled in on itself, dropping quickly from view. The spire hovered in the air for the briefest of moments before it followed the rest of the temple to the ground. 

It was over as quickly as it had begun. Only the sound of large pieces of debris settling echoed through the still air and a cloud of dust billowing in the air remained.

“What the hell did you do?” Garil spun on Nevano, for once his habitual frown wiped from his face in favor of open shock.

Nevano didn’t answer. He instead just walked off, broad grin still plastered on his face. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 2nd Frost Fall – North of Safepoint Kogo, Morrowind

Nevano and Veleth made their laborious way back to Blacklight, hindered by a lingering exhaustion and still-healing injuries. Veleth wanted to push on, but Nevano held back, forcing him to stop and rest at night. While there was some urgency, it was nothing Nevano was willing to risk re-injury over. 

“Ok, I can’t take it anymore.” Veleth blurted out when they stopped for the night north of Safepoint Kogo. “I gotta know...what did you do to the temple? Don’t try to feed me some lie that it wasn’t you. I know you had something to do with it.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to deny it.” Nevano grinned. “I have no problem explaining my genius now. It’s surprisingly simple. Remember how I said I got a bit turned around in the sewers when I escaped the palace? Well, while under there, I wound up in the tunnels under the temple. Didn’t get that far, because I could smell a build-up of gas under there. So I blew up the chamber, and the temple simply collapsed into the sewers. Not sure why everyone was so upset. It cleaned itself up very nicely.”

“And exactly how did you blow up a sewer tunnel full of highly flammable gas without killing yourself? More importantly, how did you do it while you weren’t even down there?”

Nevano smiled sweetly at him, but said nothing. He made a promise and he intended to keep it. Besides, it had been fun listening to all the wild rumors. The wilder they became, the more that a simple fire rune spell would seem very boring and uninteresting by comparison. He did feel a bit bad about not telling Veleth...but it wasn’t his to tell, anymore. The kids could hash it out later, because he had no doubts in his mind that they would all see each other again very soon. 

The next morning they started to see familiar landmarks that told them they were within a few days of reaching Blacklight, which was a massive relief to them both. They had just passed a small village when Nevano felt it. It started out as a small warning throb in his chest, beating in time to his heartbeat. He stopped walking, feeling the now familiar sense of dread mingled with panic. A tingly tightness prickled behind his ears and traveled down the sides of his neck, surrounded his chest and settled in the pit of his stomach before slowly making its way down the insides of his arms and legs. Dimly, he was aware of his name being called, but even when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t answer it. He shivered and took an instinctive step backwards, trying to get away from what he knew was coming next. 

As soon as his foot touched the ground, the pain struck him full in the chest like a war hammer, doubling him over. He screamed out in agony, drowning out the voice frantically calling him. The pain kept growing, a pounding red rage that seared his entire body in fire, emanating from the point in his chest. This was by far the worst this had ever gotten. A realization occurred to him as he fell face-first into the dirt, causing a jolt of terror to run through him, that he just might die this time.

The last thing he saw as his consciousness faded was booted feet running towards him and dropping right in front of him. It was a slight comfort, as darkness claimed him, knowing he wouldn’t die alone. 

END PART 4

XxXxXx

A/N: Did I say I was going faster? I should never make predictions. When I do, life laughs hysterically and douses me in lemon juice. For once the procrastination is not my fault! The first and most likely the last time it will not be my fault. Also staying true to me being banned from making predictions, I originally thought that this chapter was going to be nice and short but, much like this entire story, it kept growing. So a nice hefty ending to Kings. Onward!

Ah, yes, and a massive shout-out to AJestice, who I now proclaim the queen of beta readers. 

Happy Easter Everyone!!


	37. Part 5 - Hearts (A Typical Mess)

Part 5 - Hearts

Chapter 36

A Typical Mess

XxXxXx

4E 201, 3rd Frostfall - Blacklight, Morrowind

It was taking everything Veleth had in him to not jump up and start pacing. He had been pacing earlier but then had been sternly rebuked by his increasingly aggravated mother by way of some flying object aimed at his head. Now he was sitting, tapping his foot impatiently, while he watched her work over Nevano’s still body, his father standing silently nearby. He was still trying to make sense of what happened. One moment they were walking and the next thing he knew, there was a scream like a dying animal behind him. He had spun around in time to see Nevano hit the ground, gasping for air and clawing at himself, going so far as to scratching the skin at his neck bloody. By the time Veleth managed to find his voice and run to the small mer, Nevano had gone still. For terrifying moment he had thought Nevano was dead. The flood of relief at feeling the puff of warm air was short-lived. Something was horribly wrong but he just didn’t know what. He had slung Nevano over his shoulders and had run the rest of the way to Blacklight, throwing all caution to the wind. 

He was still trying to process it all. None of it made sense. The small mer had been fine when they left Mournhold. For the last several hours he had been wracking his memory trying to recall something, anything, that could possibly explain this bizarre episode, but he kept coming up empty. 

“I can’t see anything particularly wrong with him.” Drelasa finally sat back. “His heart is strong and even, his lungs are clear and his eyes are reacting to light. There’s no doubt something happened but I can’t figure out what it is.”

“Those burns...” Veleth started. 

Drelasa held up Nevano’s left arm, where blackened burns followed along the network of veins on his wrist. Just looking at them sent an ominous shiver down Veleth’s spine. “The burns on his left hand, while very unsightly, did nothing to cause such a reaction, at least not like you described.” His mother sighed and put Nevano’s arm back down. “I can rule out any sort of disease, since he can’t get sick, and I don’t see any other sort of injury that would cause him to have a hard time breathing and clawing at his chest and throat...it would have to be some sort of external force.”

“An external force?”

“Something, or someone, else is acting on his body.” Drelasa said. “Either a curse or a...a weapon of some sort. I just don’t see any obvious signs of curses or injuries. Whatever it is is either quiet for now or well hidden.”

“So now what?”

“For now, we wait.” Drelasa pulled a blanket up to Nevano’s chin. “Let him rest. When he wakes up, he can perhaps shed some light on all this.”

Veleth opened his mouth to argue but a hand dropped heavily on his shoulder, instantly killing the impatient rebuttal on his tongue. He looked up to see his father giving him a look that told him to just go along with it. He looked closer and saw the tight lines on Jorun’s face and realized that the order to wait was just agonizing for him but there was no other choice. Only one person had an idea what was going on and he was currently unconscious on the floor. They could only be patient and wait. Not his finest talent. 

“Modyn, you’ve been awake for the past few days.” Drelasa turned her attention to her son, frowning at the still rather obvious injuries from Mournhold. “Try to get some sleep.”

Veleth grunted in annoyance but he had to admit the sense in it. He was absolutely exhausted. They had gotten maybe one full night’s sleep in the past...two weeks? Three? He had completely lost track at this point. That was on the low end of sleep, even for him. Right now, all he was doing was making himself even more irritable than he already was and drive everyone crazy. It was helping no one. Sleep was, for now, the best option. 

XxXxXx

Dust billowed up from the dry ground as a hot wind blew, withered grasses buckled beneath the force of it, disintegrating into dust one dry flake at a time.. Even with the breeze, there was no relief from the intense heat. The wind merely made the heat hit Veleth all the harder, making even his heat tolerant skin feel like it was trying to wither into ash. The sky burned red above him, churning in the heat. In the distance he could see what looked to be black towers twisting towards the red sky but the very air shimmered like water, making it difficult to tell exactly what they were. Beneath the wind, Veleth could hear whispers of voices but so soft he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to be alert, as if the environment he found himself in wasn’t foreboding enough. 

He stepped to the edge of the ridge he found himself on and looked down into the valley below. Lava moved sluggishly along the bottom, bright red bubbles popping lazily on the surface. It reminded him of the stories he had heard from Vvardenfell, of the foyadas that tracked along the island, directing the lava flows from the temperamental volcano away from towns and cities. Until they were completely overwhelmed in the great eruption, that is. 

He stepped back from the edge and looked towards the towers in the distance. In the dancing heat, they seemed to be beckoning to him to come closer. He turned towards them and the world upended. 

‘If your blood boils in your veins. If your mind blazons with fire.’ 

Veleth nearly fell to his knees as the voice boomed within and without his head like a thousand pealing bells, his fingers pressed hard into his ears, each word cutting deep in his mind. It was hundreds of voices all at once, young, old, male and female. The ground shuddered beneath his feet, the grass tumbled to dust. Even the heat seemed to quail from the voice. 

‘Know that battle is a blessing. Know that death is an eventuality. Know that you are dust.’ 

He jerked up when he sensed something moving around him, pushing aside the pain throbbing in his head. What was left of the brittle, dried grasses were still vibrating from that booming voice but there was a subtle ripple to them that wasn’t part of their earlier movement. Something was stalking him, trying to take advantage of his weakened state. He reached over his shoulder for his weapon but his hand grasped at air. Quickly, he grabbed at his boot, but the familiar feel of the knife hilt wasn’t there. He was totally unarmed. 

‘Long is the arm and swift is the blade.’ 

As the grasses bent under the unrelenting force of the voice, his assailants leaped out at him. Emaciated frames with skin stretched taunt over jutting bones moved as fast as a whip strike with claws as long as his forearm reaching for vulnerable points. He dodged the hunger’s initial strike but gave it a kick on its bony haunch as it passed by, sending it tumbling headlong back into the dead weeds. Before he could catch his breath, something slithered around his arm and yanked him backwards off his feet. He glanced behind him to see another hunger, its long tongue wrapped around his arm, dragging him back towards the maw that covered most of its face. A maw filled with far too many razor-sharp teeth. 

He moved to jerk his arm free, and possibly remove the damned daedra’s tongue in the process, but suddenly there were tongues coming from all directions, winding around his limbs and holding him immobile. One hunger by itself was a nuisance but a whole pack of them spelled certain death. 

‘Deep is the cut and subtle is the poison.’ 

“Shut up!” Veleth yelled in frustration, desperately pulling at the tongues that held him, cringing when several licked at his face. Every time he broke free from a tongue, another was quick to take its place. 

‘You will come. You cannot deny me. You will not deny me.’

“Watch me.” He allowed his frustration to boil over into a red rage, letting the boost in strength that came with it to flow through him. It was just enough for him to surge to his feet, ripping the hungers’ tongues out of their mouths. A few made a halfhearted attempt to charge him but daedra, especially the lower minions of the daedra lords, were notorious for their cowardice. Sending just a few of them sailing was enough to send the remaining hunger skittering into the dry weeds. He grinned, pleased with the results but then a jolt from his gut wiped the smile from his face. Instead of anger, there was a feeling of amusement in the air. By giving in to the rage boiling just below the surface, he had somehow pleased the presence around him instead of defying it. 

It began to laugh. Hundreds, thousands of pitches and tones howled in glee, making the air vibrate worse than ever. Veleth fell to his knees, hands pressed hard to his ears but he couldn’t stop the pain of it echoing in his very bones. He screamed out, trying to drown out the noise with his own voice but it was swept away in the cacophony of maniacal wailing. Blood spilled from his ears, dripping onto the dry ground. The severed tongues from the hunger twitched towards the dark red drops. 

‘You will not deny me.’ 

Veleth sat bolt upright, gasping for breath as if he had just run for miles, a cold sweat coating his body. His head still throbbed from that booming voice echoing in his head. He frantically swiped at his ears, calming down some when his fingers came back clean. He dropped back to the sweat-soaked sheets, trying to control his breathing until it resembled something normal. These dreams...they were becoming ridiculous. He didn’t know exactly what was going on but they were becomingly increasingly violent, to the point it was affecting his waking moments too. He needed to do something about this, he just wasn’t sure how. He certainly wasn’t going to give in to it.

After a few fruitless hours of tossing and turning, Veleth gave up on trying to get more sleep altogether. Instead he wandered back downstairs where he found his father keeping vigil over his unconscious friend. It was more than a little disturbing to see Nevano so still. Even while asleep he usually found a way to be suitable obnoxious. This deathly stillness did not suit him at all. Funny how a few short weeks ago, Veleth swore to Nevano he would do anything to shut him up...and now he was willing to do whatever needed for him to be obnoxious again. 

“Can’t sleep?” Jorun asked as he sat down.

“I just spent a month listening to his nonstop nonsense, which included evasive joking, deliberate antagonizing and, for some odd reason I have yet to discern, a fork.” Veleth said. “Silence bothers me now. Usually means something has gone wrong.”

“It grows on you pretty quick.” Jorun smirked.

“The silence or his chatter?” Veleth shook his head. “This whole thing is…disturbing.”

“It is.” Jorun nodded. “Something about all this...it’s not sitting right with me. It’s keeping me awake just as much as it is you.”

“You’re thinking everything we’re doing and this situation is all connected.” It wasn’t a question. It was a niggling feeling he had had since Nevano first hit the ground. As fidgety as he was, it was a bit of a relief to know that someone else shared the same concerns and suspicions as he did. 

“Unfortunately I’m getting that feeling but there’s nothing I can say for sure.” Jorun sighed. “For that we’re going to have to wait for Nevano to wake up. He’s hiding something and I’m highly tempted to shake him awake and make him talk but your mother would skin me alive. So, until then, patience. However hard that is.”

“Patience…right.” His father gave him a sidelong look before pulling the chess board out. Veleth gave a small amused huff. “We haven’t played in a long time. Used to all the time.”

“You never were a sound sleeper.” Jorun smiled. “Even as an infant, you used to stay awake all night. Aren’t you lucky I don’t sleep very much either. Gave your poor mother a much needed break from a bratty child who never slept.” 

“I think ma got so frustrated she tried to drug me at one point.” Veleth set the pieces up. His father always took the black pieces. He remembered Nevano had once groused that he swore Jorun had cursed the pieces. Idly he wondered if that had any merit. Nothing his father did would really surprise him anymore. 

“Tried?” Jorun smirked a little. “I told her not to worry but sleeplessness is not something she’s familiar with. It runs in the family though.”

“Some people drink, some train...” Veleth shrugged. “Others don’t sleep because they need to keep watch on those who tend to wander off at midnight.”

“I did warn you about that.”

They played in silence for a while, though Veleth was so distracted that he couldn’t think straight, making several blunders that, ultimately, cost him the game. His father said nothing about his obvious lack of concentration, he simply reset the board and patiently waited for his son to make the opening move. 

“So, I take it that all went well in Mournhold, this current incident aside.” He said, pushing a pawn forward. 

“Da, you probably have a clearer idea of what happened than I do, despite me sitting right in the middle of it.” Veleth snorted. 

Jorun smiled. “There’s a few gaps in the reports, what with that barrier and a few underground ventures, and one very confused report about a temple blowing up, but I can’t tell you how proud I am of you kicking Andas’ ass. They will not soon forget that...or what you and Nevano did for them.”

Veleth felt his ears burn. “Almost didn’t go that way. I got carried away at first. If it hadn’t been for Nevusa...”

“Ah, yes, the Churl.”

Veleth’s hand froze over a knight, his ears picking out the barely-there tone of recognition. “You knew about her.”

“I knew of her, yes.” Jorun admitted, though he didn’t sound the least bit ashamed of it. “Not right away, though. It wasn’t until years later, well after Nevano took off, that word started to trickle in about a girl with sunburst eyes in a city where I knew the old flame of the Nerevarine lived. So I paid a visit to an old acquaintance there and looked in on Sorosi while I was at it. Wasn’t real hard to figure out. Sorosi swore me to secrecy though.”

“Why?”

“To prevent a small eruption.” Jorun motioned for him to make a move. “Think about it. If Nevano knew he had a child, he would have moved the planes of oblivion to get to her. Sorosi, smart woman, saw the fallout it would have caused. He would have challenged the man she’s married to, as was within his right to, caused a massive uproar, split a rift within House Redoran...it would have been messy, to say the least. For the sake of her child, Sorosi chose to remain silent about the girl’s true sire. She neither claimed it nor denied it. By doing so she wasn’t outright lying, therefore saving face publicly and allowing people to simply look the other way.”

“Save face? What the hell does that mean?”

Jorun tutted at his slowness. “She was already married to the other man when Nevusa came along, son. Nevano stole a Redoran councilor’s wife out from under his nose and begot a child with her. By staying silent, she won’t have to be branded a liar and a cheater, the girl a bastard and them both landed in exile.”

“This is...”

“A rather typical Nevano mess.” Jorun smiled. “Half the time I wonder what he did to Mephala to make her hate him so. He trips over one thing and a whole web unravels around him. Sometimes I think that whole saying about the best laid plans was brought about because of him. I let it play out on it’s own. Usually things come together nicely, though in strange ways;”

“Is that why you haven’t given us a clear idea of what we’re doing? Just a series of vague errands that will somehow come together in the end?” Veleth’s ears twitched slightly at his own snippy tone. “I understand the end goal but the getting there...”

“This particular errand I simply didn’t know anything beyond what I told you.” Jorun didn’t seem perturbed at his son’s irritation. “I wasn’t sure what was going on and Garil isn’t known for willingly sharing information, as I’m sure you found out. Making a plan ahead of time would have proved detrimental. Besides, it worked out. You both performed admirably. Unless you are complaining just to complain.” 

Again his ears twitched, this time at the quiet rebuke. He knew better. He of all people should know better. He was letting his irritation get the better of him. 

“You are used to more direct measures. Hell, it was required in Solstheim.” Jorun went on. “Generally, most military groups don’t teach you how to be patient or how to settle down and take things one step at a time. It’s a common problem when you have the sheer numbers to overwhelm something. Besides, why would they? Those in power want you to obey, not think. In our case? We are a very small group in the face of an enemy that outnumbers us. If we are to have a glimmer of a chance, we must do things one small step at a time before we have built up enough to strike. They might outfight us, but we can outsmart them. Just be patient. It will come.”

Veleth opened his mouth to respond but was abruptly interrupted by Nevano suddenly screaming out. The world seemed to both halt and speed up at the same time. Adrenaline hit Veleth like a bolt of lightning. He found himself sliding in next to Nevano without any recollection of ever getting up from where he was sitting, his heart slamming against his rib cage in the same panicked rhythm that it had the first time he had seen Nevano hit the ground. ‘Not again...’ he mentally repeated to himself over and over.

Nevano was jerking and twisting, his limbs getting tangled in his blanket, making the same horrible choking noise as before. It was a noise that set every nerve on fire with alarm. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to make it stop. Next to him, Jorun wore the same look of horrified helplessness. 

“Is this what happened earlier?” His mother appeared next to them, seemingly out of thin air.

“Yes...exactly this.” Veleth said. 

“Do you feel that?” Drelasa’s eyes narrowed. “Magic. There’s magic in here that wasn’t before. It’s coming from him.”

She stripped back the blanket. Nevano’s skin was a map of old scars from past fights and other incidences that would be classified under ‘total disaster’. Veleth knew those well enough. He had plenty of his own souvenir scars that stood as a stark reminder of how deadly their chosen life was...or how stupid some of their choices were. Nothing really stood out as maybe being the cause of this mysterious ailment, not even the jagged crater in the nook where Nevano’s left shoulder met his neck. Veleth knew exactly where that wound came from even without seeing the distinctive curved shape of a mouth. He would have suspected Dagoth Ur’s parting gift to Nevano as the source of these fits but his mother shook her head.

“Nothing there. I suspected that too at first. You should have seen it when he first got it.” His mother said. “I thought he was going to lose most of his range of motion in his shoulder. He simply decided that that wasn’t going to happen. I really shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was that it actually worked but...what is that?”

Nevano gasped again as a small spot about the size of Veleth’s thumb nail began glowing under the skin on his chest chest, right over his heart. The muscles surrounding it were contracting and twitching as if lightning were running through them. After a few moments the glow sputtered out and Nevano’s muscles relaxed, allowing him to drag in a ragged breath.

“Whatever it is, it’s right there.” Drelasa held her finger over the spot, marking it while pulling a small leather kit over. “There is something here. I can feel it. I need to get it out.” 

“Hold him.” Jorun said grimly. “And don’t let go. He’s going to fight like a wildcat.”

Drelasa waited patiently for them to get a good hold on the small mer before carefully sliced the skin just below the glowing spot. As she did so, Nevano cried out and exploded in their grip, nearly knocking Veleth completely onto his back with an astonishing show of strength. 

“Hold him, hold him. I see what it is. It’s a…shard of some sort.” Drelasa dug into the muscle with a set of tiny tongs. “Almost got it...hold him still.”

Veleth gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the bucking, bellowing mer. It was like holding onto a wild guar. Who knew that Nevano was so damned strong? He was throwing nearly his entire weight on a mer who was easily half his size and he might as well have been trying to hold up a mountain on his own. He glanced up and saw that his father was having every bit as difficult a time as he was. 

“Got it!” His mother held up a tiny shard triumphantly. 

All at once the fight drained out of Nevano. His muscles relaxed and he went limp in their arms. Veleth gladly dropped him down, sitting back and rubbing at a his jaw. It was still tender from his fight with Autarch Andas and none-too-pleased about being hit again. If he ever had a choice between holding down a delirious, flailing Nevano and fighting a group of possessed Ordinators, he would choose the Ordinators every time. He could hit back then and not feel so bad about it afterwards. 

“There. It’s a small cut and should heal nicely.” Drelasa said, pressing a cloth to the small wound. “What is this though?”

It was a small red, crystalline fragment that Veleth could see was red in color all the way through and not just stained by Nevano’s blood. Every now and then it would glow brighter, emitting a magical pulse that even he could detect despite his minimal magical prowess. It was not a pleasant energy either. No wonder Nevano had completely seized up. Every time it pulsed, he felt his skin crawl and had to fight the impulse to cringe back. 

Jorun frowned. “That’s nothing I have ever seen before but there’s no telling what Nevano could have gotten into.”

“That blood color is unnerving, isn’t it?” Drelasa said. “Not like a ruby. This is like heart’s blood.”

“Didn’t run into anything like that in Mournhold, did you?” Jorun asked. 

Veleth shook his head. That shard matched nothing they had seen in Mournhold. Besides, there was no fresh wound over the shard’s resting place. Whatever it was, it had been there for a long while. 

“Shit. I was afraid of that.” Jorun sat back and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Once again, we’re going to have to wait for Nevano to wake up to get some answers. At least this time we know what to ask so he can’t worm his way out of it.” Veleth narrowed his eyes, his earlier irritation bubbling back up with a vengeance. “Look, son, you are twitchier than a wet cat right now. Go out. Go find something to do. Just stay out of trouble. I usually don’t have to say that but you’ve been around Nevano. It tends to rub off.”

That did nothing to ease his temper but getting out of the house did at least keep it from getting any worse. The winds were giving way from the warmer summer breeze to the more frigid winter winds from Skyrim. It wouldn’t be long before the cold would drive even the hardiest Dunmer indoors but for now the cool nip was pleasant enough that people were still out and about. Veleth almost wished for the harsh cold of Solstheim to slap him in the face to distract him. Between the shard, the Thalmor and the increasingly persistent dreams he was having, he had more questions than answers and it was driving him mad.

He was so lost in his brooding thoughts that he didn’t hear footsteps coming up behind him until something dropped around his neck. He flinched and nearly lashed out until familiar laughter stopped him before he could lay his supposed attacker out flat.

“What is this? Did I catch our famously alert commander off guard?” R’is grinned widely, his arm still thrown around Veleth’s neck. “I’m going to have to remember this. I don’t think I’ve ever caught you by surprise before. Well...at least I haven’t and not gotten a dislocated jaw for my trouble.”

“You damn near got it this time, too.”

“Whew, you are bitchier than jilted whore tonight.” R’is made a face at him. “Let’s go drinking like we used to. Might put you in a better mood.”

Veleth merely grunted. After the initial stinging reception he had gotten, he really wasn’t all that interested in getting a second helping. 

“C’mon, Vel! I made an ass of myself when you first got here.” R’is said, slapping him on the back. “Let me make it up to you?”

Veleth eyed him. “Hope you got plenty of drakes then. Drinks are on you.”

The tavern that R’is chose was definitely one that Veleth would mentally label a ‘health hazard’. It was dark and dingy inside, too dark to even see the ground but judging by the feel of his boot scraping the floor, he really didn’t want to look too close. There was just enough light to be able to tell there were other people in the tavern but their general features were murky in the dim light. He could pick out a few different accents in the low murmur, mostly local accents but a few from the surrounding provinces. He thought he heard the low, rumbling growl of an orc but he couldn’t be so sure. Again he wasn’t about to look too closely. The whole tavern carried the impression of wanting to stay as hidden as possible. Looking too close would only cause more trouble than it was worth. 

A drink was shoved into his hands. The smell of it was so strong it made him turn his head to the side. Even the heaviest of drinkers would have to admit this was strong and Veleth knew plenty of hard, heavy drinkers. 

“Don’t chicken out on me!” R’is slapped his shoulder. 

“Stuff hits you in the face like acid.”

“It’s strong stuff here. Want to know why it’s so dark in here? Because if that drunk orc in the back there farts with that many lit candles around here this place will turn into an inferno.”

Veleth snorted in spite of himself and bravely took a generous swallow of the strange brew. Instantly his tongue started twitching and curling uncontrollably. It took all of his considerable willpower to keep from coughing it back up again.

“What is this?” He sputtered. 

“Something foreign.” R’is shrugged. “Was the special of the night. Figured why not. Sometimes they’re pretty good. This is strong enough for me to think it came from Orsinium. That’s why that orc is laughing for the first time ever...anyway, we didn’t get a good chance to talk last time. What really brings you back home?”

Veleth took another swallow of the caustic drink. He didn’t like lying to his old friend but in a shadowy tavern where he couldn’t even see the other patrons? He didn’t need a spymaster or an old hero with thief-like tendencies to tell him he needed to lie. He just hated to do it. 

“Simply put, my contract there ended and approval for extension wasn’t granted. Still not quite sure what I’m supposed to do around here. I guess I’m just waiting for them to decide what to do with me.” That wasn’t so bad and wasn’t too far from the truth. 

“How is Solstheim, really?” 

Veleth nearly sighed in relief. This he didn’t have to lie about. “Dangerous. Desolate. The stories really aren’t all that far from the truth. The reavers are annoying and thick as ticks on a bear’s ass. Speaking of bears, the local fauna is even more bad-tempered than what we’ve seen here. Nothing like being chased by a giant tusked bristleback being ridden by rieklings to pop your ego.”

“The hell is a riekling?”

“Evil-tempered midget goblins that likes to throw poisoned twigs at you. Don’t laugh! When a hundred of them pop out of the snow it’s no longer funny.”

“Why did you stay so long?”

“The island was horrible. It was difficult, it was hard, it was an uphill battle the whole time for mere survival, especially after the mine closed.” Veleth admitted, stopping to take another swallow. “But...I liked the people. No one shied from hard work and no one questioned what I did to keep them safe. I was sent the worst of the recruits but it became a challenge turning the messes they gave me into something to be proud of. While it was an aggravation, I actually looked forward to it. Wasn’t long before I felt personally responsible for everyone’s well being...”

“Ah, there it is.” R’is poked at him. “You could indulge those noble tendencies.”

“I could.” Veleth swatted his hand away. “But how many werewolves have you killed in the past seventy years? There were some really good fights in there...and some really bad ones. There were assassins, some Argonians that thought they could get away with attacking Solstheim, some strange creatures my men called ash spawn that apparently was the Telvanni wizard’s fault...a dragon, once.” 

“A dragon?!”

“Keep your voice down, yes.” Veleth scowled at him. “All connected to the Dragonborn. Thing was ugly but we didn’t have to fight it, fortunately. That would have ended in a certain death...”

“You sound like you wish you were back there.”

“...There was a girl.”

“Now we are getting to the good part.”

“Shut up.” Veleth scowled at him. “Pretty girl. I liked her a lot. Made being there...bearable.”

“And she’s not here why?”

Veleth gave him a dirty look that was felt perfectly even in the dim light. R’is didn’t seem to be the least bit perturbed but at least he didn’t push it. He instead got more drinks. The talk turned more banal, something Veleth was relieved over. The acrid orc brew was replaced by the more familiar Dunmeri beverage of mazte, which they were able to put back at a faster rate. The talk turned from catching up to complaining about work, an old topic that had very little to do with actual grievances and more to do with comparing who had it worse. Slowly Veleth relaxed as they conversed the familiar arguments of everything unimportant. Despite the shady bar they were in, he was finally starting to feel more at home again. 

“You know…before I left Solstheim there was something I was told…by the girl I liked.” Veleth paused, taking a swing of his drink. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. Now I wonder if what she said had merit. She really wasn’t the one who usually said the weird things. Not sure why I remember it. The whole damn island said weird things all the time.”

“I told you that ashy water does strange shit to you.”

“Shut up.” Veleth shoved R’is when he snickered. “Anyway, her father is the strange one. Actually, he’s more than strange. He was a complete pain in my ass. Made being with her very difficult. Most of what he said was nonsense but one thing he told her stuck with me.”

“What’s that?”

“She was saying how Thalmor were trying to crawl around Vvardenfell. That they’re digging around the volcano.” He shook his head. “Pure nonsense. There’s nothing left there.”

“It’s a ruined land of ash and dust.” R’is smirked in agreement. “Kinda like what you were running around in in Solstheim. How did that ash taste?”

“The next time the wind changes and brings ash to our shore, I’ll be laughing while the rest of you cough and whine about it like the spoiled city mer you are. I’ve met reavers who whine less.”

“Is this how you treat your subordinates? Amazing they still allowed you to be a captain.”

“Ah, you’re just jealous that I outrank you and will always outrank you.” Veleth smirked at R’is. “Don’t worry. No matter how high up I get, I’ll always make sure you remain my favorite little grunt. Special privileges. Make you the star of the underlings. They will love you.” 

He laughed when R’is snorted his drink out of his nose. It felt good to cut loose, to have a moment where he didn’t have to worry about every small movement he made, who saw him or what was going on outside the building he was in. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he was able to not worry. It was temporary though. As soon as he walked out the door, the sense of urgency and frustration would come crashing down on him again. For now, however, he was determined to push it aside. 

The sun was beginning to rise by the time he managed to stumble back home. He was drunk but not so drunk that he could justify sleeping it off on the filthy tavern floor like many of the others he had been with, R’is included. He was drunkenly proud of himself; he only needed to stop to vomit once. He was able to walk a bit straighter after that. 

“There you are...” His father said, mercifully not mentioning his slightly unsteady stance or anything else really. Veleth could have sworn there was a slight twinkle of amusement there. Either that or it was inebriated wishful thinking. He stank like stale beer. He needed a bath and soon but, at this particular moment he did not care. He would care later. Then his father spoke again. It took a moment or two for what he said to sink in but the moment it did, all inebriated fuzziness was dashed away.

“Nevano is waking up.”

XxXxXx

A/N: Summer is upon the great land of Texas again, my dear readers! This means late spring storms, construction projects, and hiding from the increasing heat. Oh, and writing time. Can’t forget that.


	38. One Step Closer

Chapter 37

One Step Closer

XxXxXx

4E 82, 26th Last Seed – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano made his way through Blacklight, carefully doing his best to remain unnoticed, as was his habit over the past few decades. Granted, the world seemed to have forgotten who he was in the past eighty years, but he wasn’t about to give them the chance to remember. Thank the gods for extremely short memories. 

Blacklight wasn’t high on his list of favorite cities to visit – he despised the confusing layout – but this was the city Jorun and Drelasa had relocated to. Nevano had been the one to convince them to leave Vvardenfell, a horrible, fear-driven feeling in the pit of his stomach had prompted him to beg them to leave the island. Jorun, never one to ignore feelings like that, had unquestioningly uprooted everything he had and had taken his wife to the mainland, finding a job within the city watch and settling down. Not three months later, Baar Dau had crashed into Vivec, triggering Red Mountain’s massive eruption and the overall destruction of Vvardenfell. Now, simply because Blacklight contained two of his favorite people, it became a regular destination. He would learn to love it purely because of them. 

This visit was different. He was moving faster, risking detection in ways he normally wouldn’t take, choosing speed over discretion. Every step closer towards the Veleth household caused his heart to pound in excitement, his head buzzing with an energetic energy that he couldn’t quell. Not that he wanted to. He had been looking forward to this particular visit for months now, marking the time with impatience and cursing the slow flow of time. Never before had he looked to the future with excitement. 

In his pack was a much-creased letter, dated back in Sun’s Dawn. Jorun’s normally neat handwriting was scrawled untidily across the parchment. It was incredibly short, which most of Jorun’s letters usually were since he knew Nevano got frustrated quickly with lengthy reads. This was shorter than most though, containing a single sentence: “Come at the end of Last Seed”. The quick, excited writing, combined with the demand of a visit several months away? There was only one reason for it, a reason that made Nevano cover the distance to Blacklight in record time. 

The Veleth family was about to grow. 

Children were a fickle thing for Dunmer. They were not the most fertile of races, many families considering themselves fortunate to even have a single child. Those with more than one were admired...and heavily envied. Many pregnancies often ended in tragedy, creating a widely followed superstition of never actually announcing an expected child. When a healthy child was born, the families involved became zealously protective of the child. It was not uncommon for a whole town to come together to protect a single child, for often there was only one child among them. It also wasn’t all that uncommon for an infant to be kidnapped by another mer desperate for a child. Essentially, it was every bit as complicated and dangerous as everything else within Dunmeri culture. 

Jorun and Drelasa had been trying for decades for a child. Nevano only knew because of his many late night conversations with Drelasa while they waited for Jorun to be allowed to come home for a few days from his Buoyant Armiger duties. Jorun himself had never said anything but Nevano could see that each year that passed that they didn’t have a child weighed heavily on him. So the cryptic news that hinted at a child was especially exciting. 

Nevano had counted, re-counted, gotten someone else to count as well to make absolutely sure he would be there around the time Drelasa would give birth. He was nearly bouncing with excitement. The only thing that kept him from running was slight trepidation. Even now, at the end, things could go horrible wrong. He couldn’t bear to think of anything bad happening. If any couple deserved this one thing going right, it was his two steadfast friends. 

He didn’t bother knocking when he finally reached his friends’ house. He simply slipped inside. It was an unspoken agreement that Nevano would come and go as he pleased so long as he didn’t do it only when he was bloody and at death’s door. Drelasa hated seeing him in that condition. He wasn’t worried about there being extra visitors. Jorun was an only child from a family with a history of only children and his parents were long since dead. Drelasa, as Jorun loved to brag, had left a rather large and wealthy merchant family to marry him. The rest of the clan hadn’t been nearly as charmed by his silver tongue as Drelasa had been. Their wedding, as Drelasa had dead-panned while taking a healthy swing of Nevano’s sujamma, had been an interesting affair. Nevano had been very sorry he hadn’t been there. 

“So, you did make it.” Drelasa put aside the book she had been reading, a smile lighting up her face. Pregnancy suited her, Nevano noted. She was gorgeous to begin with – Nevano always teased Jorun that he had married a girl that was far above him – but she glowed with a happiness that would put a goddess to shame. 

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Nevano smiled in return but checked in alarm as she struggled to push herself up from her seat. “Ah, don’t get up.”

“I need to.” Drelasa grunted as she stood upright and stretched, pressing her hands against the small of her back. “I can’t hold one position for too long.”

Nevano’s eyes went wide as he took in her enormous belly. “Are you sure there’s just one kid in there?” 

“Just one. Hopefully. Sure does kick enough for three though.” Drelasa grimaced a little. “While I often complain about your absence, I have to admit you have amazing timing.”

Nevano felt the blood drain from his face. “Is...are you…?”

“Oh, calm down. There’s still plenty of time but, yes, the baby is on the way.” Drelasa frowned at him, her face going from sunshine to thunder in a heartbeat. “Now don’t start fluttering. I kicked Jorun out earlier for doing just that earlier. In fact, before you start annoying me, why don’t you go find him?”

Before Nevano could protest, the heavily pregnant woman had shoved him out the door and closed it in his face. The click of the lock sliding into place mirrored the click of his mouth snapping shut. He wasn’t about to argue with a pregnant woman. Especially if that pregnant woman was currently concentrating on a baby’s arrival. Double that if that laboring pregnant woman was Drelasa Veleth. He didn’t want to know how bad the burn from her impressive magic skills would be if he dared cross her in this state.

Finding Jorun turned out to be far easier than he initially thought. A few passing guards watched him get shoved out the door and silently pointed down the street. Nevano smirked a bit. Patrols didn’t normally run down this street this time of day. It seemed that even in a city as large as Blacklight, the prospect of a new baby was something everyone took note of. 

After a few pointers from guards that Nevano never remembered being posted before, he found himself outside the walls to the northwest of the city, in the foothills of the Velothi mountains headed towards Skyrim. He should have known all along Jorun would be out here. Jorun has been very happy working with the Buoyant Armigers because he didn’t have to work solely in a city like he had when he was an Ordinator. Nevano had been a bit surprised when he had gone into city guard work, but strongly suspected that Jorun was planning something. He just wasn’t sure what yet. 

It wasn’t difficult to find Jorun after that, which surprised Nevano greatly. Normally Jorun was difficult to track and even more difficult to actually pinpoint but not today. 

The usually calm and collected mer was pacing an erratic path, chewing a thumbnail bloody on one hand and snapping his fingers on the other. He didn’t even notice Nevano walking up. 

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d get all shook up.” Nevano couldn’t help but smirk at the pleasure of seeing Jorun jump in surprise. “Bonus prize; I finally managed to sneak up on you. Sadly, I can’t take too much satisfaction. Big day today.”

“I’m not ready for this.” Jorun said bluntly. 

Nevano raised an eyebrow. 

“Don’t even start with ‘I’ve had months to get ready for this’ shit.” Jorun started pacing again. “It feels like it was yesterday that Drelasa even suspected she might be pregnant and all of the sudden...we’re here.” 

“You’ve been hoping for this moment for years. Decades, even.” Nevano said carefully. “I can see why you would feel this way because it seemed like it wouldn’t ever come.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what to do.” Jorun went on. “For Drelasa or for the baby.”

“When it comes to ‘Lasa, you need to let her tell you what to do.” Nevano snorted as he remembered how quick she was to go from happy to irritated. “She will have that covered better than you. Same holds true for the kid. You’ll be a great father, Jorun. Of that I have no doubt. You’re scared right now but it’ll be fine.”

“Can...I ask a favor from you? It’s a big one.”

“Absolutely.” Nevano said without hesitation. 

“If something were to ever happen to me and ‘Lasa, would you look after my child?” Jorun shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. “I really hate to put that sort of burden on you but there’s really no one else...”

“I would have done that even if you hadn’t asked.” Nevano said easily. It really wasn’t even a question of if he would do it. “No matter how far away I am, no matter what I’m doing, if I ever hear that something has happened, I’m coming straight here.”

Jorun’s shoulders finally dropped as he sighed a breath of relief, probably the first one he allowed himself since learning he would be a father. 

“You know, the fact that you are worried about all this shows that you’ll be a great father.” Nevano grinned. “You care. This kid has no idea how lucky it is.”

“He.”

“Thinking it’s a boy?”

“I got hit in the head with something when I first said that.” Jorun rubbed the back of his head with a small smile. “Drelasa didn’t want to know but, yes, I really think it’s a boy.”

Pleased that Jorun was finally calming down and acting more like himself, Nevano warmed to the topic. “Got girl names picked out in case your wife has somehow gotten a girl just to throw you off?”

“Not sure that’s possible but I don’t even have a boy name picked.” Jorun snorted. “I have a few ideas but...I want to see him first. See which name will fit him best. I have a sinking feeling he will have his mother’s temper though. We might be in trouble.”

“Oh gods...” Nevano blanched a bit. 

Finally Jorun laughed. “We’ve survived ‘Lasa. We’ll survive this little one too.”

That was the cue Nevano had been waiting for. “Well, we’re never going to find out by sitting out here.”

The change in Jorun was immediate and impressive. Once nervous and unsure, he was suddenly brimming with excitement and near bouncing to leave. Nevano was used to having to catch up to Jorun in various ways but rarely had he had to run like this to keep up. He hadn’t run this fast since he had fled down a mountain after upsetting a cliffracer nest. Instead of fear though, there was nothing but excitement and happiness. Finally things were going right. 

That feeling only grew stronger when, several hours later, a very proud and giddy Jorun happily showed off his brand new son. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 4th Frostfall – Blacklight, Morrowind

Consciousness slowly returned to him. Voices reached through the dense fog in his mind, soft, yet urgent. He couldn’t make them out at first but he could recognize them. Drelasa, her sweet voice stern, and the two deeper voices of her husband and son. Hot air was puffing against his left arm from he hoped was the dog. He tried to react, tried to move, to say something, but only managed a small grunt so soft he feared it would go unnoticed. 

He should have known better. Nothing escaped this family’s notice. He could feel attention snap to him. If it was uncomfortable to have just one of them bore that intense look on him, it was downright painful to have all three at once and he didn’t even have his eyes open yet. 

Drelasa hummed. “There. It’s about time. Open your eyes, Nevano.”

Nevano didn’t want to but knew he had to obey. No one disobeyed Drelasa. Her husband and son may be battle-hardened and have risen high through the ranks but even they jumped at her command. Nevano was no exception, no matter how badly he wanted to keep his eyes shut to block the light from his aching head...and avoid the uncomfortable questions that would follow.

“Don’t be stubborn. There’s enough of that in this house already.”

With a small grunt of effort, Nevano reluctantly complied, dragging his eyes open to squint at the blurry figures around him, shying sluggishly away from the meager light. Slowly things came back into focus and he could easily recognize Drelasa, Jorun and Veleth. The longer he kept his eyes open and focused, the easier it got. The pain was completely gone, save for a massive headache and a small sting on his chest he had no idea how he aquired. Other than that he felt far lighter than he had in months. 

“Well, his eyes dilate normally and he’s focusing. Nevano? Can you-” Drelasa was cut off as Jorun clapped his hands right next to Nevano’s ears.

“Son of a gods’ damned WHORE!”

“He’s fine.”

“Jorun!”

“If he can curse like that, he’s fine.” Jorun said easily. “Sick mer don’t cuss. They act sick. See? He’s cursing in different languages. It was just a little shock to wake him up.” Drelasa made a disgusted noise at him that went ignored. “So, what trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? Collapsing without a definitive cause is a new one. Usually you have half a skeleton’s worth of broken bones or a dozen bleeding holes in you. Or half a contingent of angry Ordinators chasing you. We’ve done all those scenarios. Certainly gave the boy a scare. If that was your end goal, you achieved it.”

“For once the Ordinators aren’t mad at me.” Nevano groaned. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, that shock had done wonders to wake him up fully. “Well, they still kinda are. I couldn’t resist...but not ready to kill me mad. Yet. Still, your guess is as good as mine. Kind a want an answer myself. This is really getting old…”

“This has happened before?” Drelasa pounced on him with the ferocity of a hunting cat. Instinctively her husband and son took a step away, out of her line of fire. 

“This…uh, this was…” Nevano shrank back but he had far less room to escape than the other two did. He desperately tried to stay quiet but his tongue refused to obey. He was in big trouble. “The…fourth time?”

“FOURTH?!” Both Veleth men flattened themselves against the wall. Lady ran out of the room with a skitter of fleeing nails. “Have you lost your damned mind?! Have you at least gone to a healer?”

“I forgot to!” Azura strike him down now, he was only digging himself in deeper but his mouth kept betraying him. “Look, it hurts and then it’s gone and I go about my day.”

“You collapsed in the middle of the road! You could have died! In the middle of nowhere!” Drelasa’s red eyes were spitting indignant sparks now. He would happily accept being set on fire at this moment. He would live longer. “And if you think for an instant that you are going to just get up and start walking around like nothing ever happened, then you have another thing coming, you stupid fetcher! Your ass is staying here, where I can make sure you aren’t going to drop dead because there is no telling what damage has been done because you’re too stupid to realize that maybe you need to see a healer! No going out, no running around for this secret mission, none of your solo wanderings until we figure this out, do you understand me?”

The only thing he could manage in response to the onslaught was a very undignified squeak. To their credit, neither Jorun nor his son laughed though that could be because they too were bobbing their heads in agreement in hopes of staying out of trouble. 

Partially mollified, Drelasa went back to fussing over him. “We pulled a shard from your chest. It was emitting a magical pulse which was causing you to seize up. Strong enough that it was apparently affecting your heart and lungs though you were lucky there doesn’t seem to be any lingering damage. We were hoping you could enlighten us to what it might be.”

“A shard?” Nevano winced at her ferocious emphasis. “Like from a rock?”

“Crystalline. Unique red color to it.” Drelasa tipped a small bowl in his direction, the fragment clinking against the bottom as it shifted. 

“I...I don’t recognize it at all.” Nevano admitted.

“Does Nerevar?” Jorun asked, coming back over now that he wasn’t in danger of bodily harm from his wife’s temper. 

“Nerevar...has been quite since we left Mournhold.” Nevano wasn’t quite ready to admit that he couldn’t even feel the old Chimer’s soul anymore. “I think he used more energy than he was used to since the veil between the living and the dead was so thin there.” 

“It’s a bit unusual for you to not remember an injury.” Jorun said. “Normally you can recount every scar and scratch. You used to keep the boy entertained telling those stories in great detail.”

“For once I can’t even make a story up.” Nevano flopped back gracelessly. “There isn’t even a time I can’t account for that would explain this.”

“We’ll figure this out, one way or another.” Jorun said. “You’re alive at least. One more incident you’ve managed to crawl through.”

“I think ‘Lasa would have been happier if a dragon had landed on me instead of a rock making my heart stop.” 

“Can you blame her?” Jorun gave a his glaring wife a placating smile. “A rock is rather boring. A dragon would make for a far more interesting story, though in these mountains you are far more likely to find a stone giant. Now there’s a good story. Combining rocks and monsters.”

Both men yelped as Drelasa finally hit the breaking point in her temper and started throwing whatever wasn’t nailed down within her reach. 

Veleth, still nursing a massive hangover, merely pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked out of the room. It was very apparent that he simply couldn’t drink enough alcohol to be able to deal with them.

XxXxXx

4E 201, 14th Frostfall – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano thought he was going to go mad. Drelasa had all but leashed him indoors, hardly letting him out of her sight. He chafed at the unwanted attention, his mood souring to the point where they would start hissing and spitting at each other like two cats in an alleyway. Desperate to relief the boredom, he resorted to trying to teach Veleth to lie and cheat using card games as a good starting point. When that got boring, and a little futile, Nevano simply cleaned Veleth out of whatever he had on him, taking a small delight in listening to the grumbling. Kid might be able to beat him in games that required sheer strategy, like chess, but when it came to luck and cheating, Nevano would always be heaps ahead of the younger mer. 

During one such game, right as Veleth threw down his useless hand in disgust while Nevano scooped his earnings off the table, Drelasa walked in. Nevano froze for a fraction of a moment when she stood next to them, her arms folded tightly over her chest, before throwing his own cards down. 

“Something I can help you with?” He asked politely, ignoring the indignant squawk from Veleth when he saw just how bad Nevano’s hand had been. Nevano’s mouth twitched. Better luck next time, Bull. 

“Jorun asked for you to meet him in his office.” Drelasa frowned. Obviously she hadn’t approved of Nevano’s leaving the safety of the house. “I’d rather he brought it all here but he was adamant. However, there are some ground rules you have to follow or else you will be staying here.”

Nevano tipped his chair back and rested his feet on Lady, quietly waiting for her to continue.

“First, you still have to avoid detection as much as possible. Those lenses you have, keep them on. Bonebiter blends in enough but Trueflame and Hopesfire need to stay here.” Drelasa bit her lower lip. Nevano sighed and sat flat in his chair. She was so obviously worried about him that he couldn’t help but feel bad for being such a pain the last few days. He simply couldn’t stay irritated when all she wanted was for him to remain alive. “Secondly, you seem to not have any lingering side affects from that shard but if you feel anything out of the ordinary please just come back home. Lastly...please be careful.”

Nevano stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. “I promise. I will follow all that and more if need be. I’m not going to drop dead on you.”

“You damn well better not.” She sighed. “You three will be the death of me. Why couldn’t at least one of you have taken up a safer profession?”

“You wouldn’t have fallen for Jorun if he hadn’t been the dashing soldier sweeping you off your feet.” Nevano grinned broadly, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t have met me if I was some boring, safe, paper pusher back in Cyrodiil instead of the gallant adventurer that I am and your boy, are you kidding me? He had no choice but to be the bull he is coming from you two.”

“Oh stop and go find my troublesome husband.” Drelasa smiled a bit as she shoved Nevano away. “Go be dashing and gallant. Just don’t get caught.”

“I would but there is a small problem.” Before he could continue, Drelasa wordlessly pulled Bonebiter out of nowhere and shoved it into his hands, a brand new glossy string wound already strung on it. He smiled. “Never mind. No problem anymore.”

As Nevano was leaving he heard her turn her attention to her son. “I have a different job for you.” 

It was a bit overwhelming to suddenly plunge from near isolation into a large city packed with people. Nevano felt his mouth go dry as he looked at the traffic making its laborious way through the streets. He had been so long out of touch with civilization that he suddenly realized he didn’t know how to act with his own kind. Skyrim had been easy; the sparser population was far more interested in keeping to itself. Blacklight had a far denser population and Dunmer, suspicious by nature, always took notice of outlanders. 

He gave into his anxiety and ducked into the alleyway, preferring to take the long way to his destination if it meant keeping out of crowds. By the time he made it to the military district, he had gotten his nerves under control enough to emerge from the back streets and make it across the square to the watch building. Fortunately, the crowd was much thinner here and comprised mostly of off duty soldiers and guard who were a bit more eager to ignore someone rather than make more work for themselves. 

He went into the building, belated realizing that, while he could probably pick out which window was Jorun’s office from outside, he had no idea how to find it inside. The interior of the watch building was confusing, with hallways and stairs branching off in all directions. He could search for hours and still be lost. Briefly, he considered climbing up to the window like he did last time, though there were far too many witnesses this time of day. 

“Oh! You are...the guest that I was told to look for.” Nevano looked up as a square shouldered woman seemed to materialize from the dark interior. Though she had a smile on her stern face, her eyes were scrutinizing him thoroughly. He was glad his eyes were hidden behind the lenses but he wished he had his hood to hide a bit more in. “I’m Cruivah Ienith. First Lieutenant in Blacklight’s Watch.”

“What is it with Jorun and surrounding himself with women that all look like they could kick someone’s ass without much effort?” Nevano muttered, loud enough for her to hear. “I swear...he’s got a thing for it. Dirty old bastard. Anyway I’m...huh, I don’t have a good fake name ready for you.”

Cruivah’s cheeks flushed a shade or two darker. “Umm, Jorun did mention you would most likely have something...witty to say.” The faint stain on her cheeks spread to her ears and neck. “I...uh, well...right this way, please.”

She spun on her heel and marched up a flight of steps, a little faster than necessary. Nevano fell in step behind her, smirking a bit. She wouldn’t stare quite so hard at him next time. 

“Here.” She pushed open a door at the top of the stairs without preamble. “Sir, our guest has arrived.” She hurried away before anyone could say anything else to her. 

“Do I really want to know what you said to Cruivah?” Jorun asked as Nevano shut the door behind him and dropped into a chair. 

“Probably not.” Nevano pulled the lenses off. “Though I’m not sure you gave her a good enough warning.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, though I’ll probably get an earful later.” Jorun shoved the letter he had been reading away into a haphazard pile that threatened to topple over. “Just be aware once she recovers she might come after you. She hates losing in any situation.” 

Nevano made a noncommittal grunt, distracted instead by the letter. He wasn’t the best or fastest reader, especially when he was trying to snoop upside down, but he did catch a few words. Most notably, words that told him that Jorun was currently embroiled in a written argument with a councilor. 

“And you get upset when others are nosy.” Jorun didn’t quite smirk but Nevano could see the humor in his eyes. 

“Their nosy and my nosy are different.” Nevano said. “What are you arguing for?”

Jorun rolled his eyes. “Be faster to tell you what I’m not arguing about. I’ve got arguments going with councilors all over the place. I’m not their lapdog and they don’t particularly like that. Makes it difficult to have an intelligent conversation with any of them.”

“That’s not a Redoran seal though.” Nevano nodded at the blue wax seal of what looked like a pair of handcuffs. “That’s...Dres?”

“I’m not sending you and Modyn all over Morrowind for my amusement.” Jorun smiled. “I’ve been planting the seeds of dissent in the minds of councilors in all the Great Houses. I have to say, I was rather surprised to get into a debate with House Dres. They’ve always been against Imperial rule. That’s what I get for assuming.” 

“So you are running the political front.” Nevano said slowly, heavily distracted by Jorun’s messy desk.

“Better me than you or Modyn. Both of you have expressed a disdain for politics, despite there being a certain flair for it, each in your own way.” 

Nevano didn’t comment on that last bit. He really didn’t want to get entangled with politics again. It had hurt enough the first time around. Instead, he allowed his attention to suddenly be diverted by a small bowl, partially hidden in the organized chaos, holding a now familiar red shard. He realized he had never gotten a good look at this shard that had apparently taken up residence in his chest after his initial glance at it. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t think of a single instance in which a chunk of magical rock could have gotten embedded in his chest. Generally he kept his armor in good enough condition that nothing should have had that sort of access to his bare skin. Not to mention, he would have remembered being hit with a rock hard enough to be embedded. It made no sense. 

“It hasn’t flared since we pulled it from you.” Jorun said. “But I still wouldn’t touch it with your bare hands. That magic...saying it didn’t feel right wouldn’t do it justice. I can’t really find a good word for it. Twisted may be the closest thing I can think of.”

Nevano pulled the small bowl the shard was resting in over, scattering a few scraps of paper. First glance, the shard seemed to be nothing special. It was red as blood with small veins of darker red weaving through like spider webs, about the size of his thumbnail. The edges of it were still sharp and ragged, as if it had been broken off from something. As he stared at it, something moved deep within it’s crystalline core. He jerked back, heart hammering, his throat tightening a bit as he remembered how much pain that little shard had caused. 

“Nothing in my personal library is giving me a clue as to what that might be.” Jorun’s had turned around, throwing a few letters into a small pile of ash and igniting them. “And I’ve gone through just about everything.”

Starting to feel a little queasy looking at the thing, Nevano shoved the bowl back across the desk. “It’s not important right now. You asked for me to come here so I’m guessing it’s not just for a friendly chat. What are we doing next?”

“Yes and no.” Jorun turned back and sat back down. “See, I might be a Buyout Armiger but first and foremost, I am head of the city guard. I do take that rather seriously. My job, both jobs really, is to make Morrowind safe again for our people. I work hard to protect our home. So when I get reports of things going on behind my back, I tend to get a little annoyed.” 

“What happened?” Nevano raised an eyebrow. Between being head of the watch and apparently having a good touch on the pulse of an extensive spy network, there wasn’t much that could slide past Jorun’s notice and that wasn’t even taking into consideration his already incredible sense of awareness. Nevano could see how anything like that happening would be annoying to him. 

Jorun raised a hand and started to tick off grievances. “First, the Thalmor have been coming and going in larger than normal numbers off the docks. Logs never indicate where they are going but rumors among drunk sailors is that they are going to Vvardenfell. I haven’t been able to verify that. Nothing hugely suspicious at first glance, given the rebuilding efforts going on there, but I’m not dismissing anything they do. Second, the Thalmor took over the city archives. They kicked the archivists out and refuse to let anyone in. No one knows what they are looking for but no one has the spine to throw them out or demand anything from them. Lastly, and this one annoys me the most, a scholar went missing a few weeks ago. Either no one bothered to report it because no one cared or they were too scared. The only reason I even know about it is because I was tracking a spy that has been toying with me and I just happened to hear a few muttered complaints. I started to look into it but was told it was none of my business. That it was being handled and the Watch did not need to get involved. Last I checked, missing civilians was under Watch jurisdiction. So now I’m making it my business.”

“You were tracking a spy?”

“We have spies, the Thalmor has spies, the empire has spies...everyone has spies everywhere. The very walls have eyes even. We know they are spying and they know we are spying.” Jorun said. “Not all spy work is about staying hidden. It’s also about being in plain sight, facing other people who you know are spies while never acknowledging them as such, playing a game of words where you talk but say nothing at all while hoping someone says something useful before you get caught. Some are better at it than others. For instance, there’s a Thalmor spy and a council informant in the ranks of my guard. That’s just for starters. The Thalmor spy in my ranks is stupid though. I figured out who she was the moment she joined.”

“Yet you let them stay?”

“Better here where I can keep track of them and feed them the information I want them to have.” Jorun smiled wryly. “This particular spy I’m trying to track is a clever one. Giving me a headache. However now is not the time for that.”

“Right, the scholar no one bothered to tell you about it and some missing books.” Nevano crossed his arms. “Because you aren’t busy trying to plan a rebellion or anything.”

“No, I just sit in my office and burn letters all day.” Jorun chuckled, then stopped abruptly. “Wait...that is half my job here.”

“And you wonder why I don’t settle down.” Nevano smirked. “I take it that you are going to do something about all this?”

“Yes.” Jorun slowly smiled. “See, I don’t appreciate things like this happening under my nose and then being told to butt out. Makes my nose twitch. So I’m going to do some poking around of my own. Standard procedures, you see.”

Nevano grinned broadly. It had truly been too long since he and Jorun had last caused trouble together and he could sense they could cause quite a bit now. “Planning on making me an honorary guard for this trip?”

“Nope.” Jorun stood up, picking his sword up and buckling it on his belt. “I’m off duty. I’m just reacquainting you with the city. Two old friends taking a stroll. See important monuments. All the things tourists like to see.” 

Nevano stood to follow but glanced back at the shard as he got to the doorway. Nothing moved within it. It was a rock, nothing more, sitting innocently in its bowl. Still, his spine prickled as he looked at it. He shut the door quickly to hide it from view.

The trip to Rootspire was a silent one. Jorun knew every side road, back alley and shortcut to ensure that no one, not even his own guard, would see them. 

“What are we looking into first?” Nevano asked, his voice low enough that it was almost unheard. 

“I put someone else in charge of the missing scholar.” Jorun said, just as quietly. “We are doing the sneaky stuff.”

“Someone who can and will happily beat the information he needs out of someone to find out what happened without the blame falling on the Watch. Not sure he’ll appreciate that when he figures it out but he needs to learn.” Nevano smirked. “And we are sneaking where?”

“I am desperately curious to find out what’s going on in the archives.” Jorun bypassed the front entrance to Rootspire. “I just have a feeling that we need to look in there.”

Nevano was the last person to argue with Jorun’s gut feeling. Veleth was highly accurate when it came to that sixth sense but Jorun’s gut was as finely tuned as a well-trained hunting dog. If he thought they needed to be somewhere, Nevano would hurry to get there as fast as he could, even if it led them to some rather dubious places. Jorun led him through a side door to Rootspire and, somehow managing to avoid guard patrols, went down several side halls that wound down under the building. Finally they came to a heavy wood door that Jorun deftly picked with speed that made Nevano suspect he was rather familiar with this particular lock. 

“We aren’t supposed to be here, are we?”

“Did the lock picking give it away? In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a mere guard. I might head it all, but, in the end, still a guard.” Jorun gave him a wry smile. “Not something most people consider especially grand...some even consider it a nuisance, like, say thieves or certain adventurers who like to wind up in places they aren’t supposed to be. Due to that, my access to certain places is generally limited. The archives used to be more open to the public but since the Thalmor moved in, that access was greatly restricted. Every time I go now, I’m either outright denied or someone is breathing down my neck.”

“I take it you didn’t ask for permission this time.”

“Considering that now involves begging in front of a Thalmor and I would rather kiss my wife’s dog’s ass than do that.” Jorun said. “So now I tend to beg for forgiveness from the council if I get caught rather than ask for permission. So, to answer your question, no, we aren’t supposed to be here at all. So if you hear someone heading in, try to hide or kill them quietly. The less blood the better.”

“This is fun. I think I like this spy stuff.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You would be a horrible spy.”

“What? I think I would be a great spy!”

“Nevano, you are the epitome of what not to do as a spy.” Jorun said. “Every spy school out there is using you as an example of how not to do things, oh persecuted Nerevarine.”

“...There is no such thing as a spy school.”

“That you know of.”

“Annoying fetcher...” Nevano grumbled under his breath. “Fine, just tell me what I’m supposed to do.” 

“I’m going to start pulling some things from the shelves and you read through them….” Jorun trailed off when he saw the pained look on Nevano’s face. “Right. Not a strong reader. Ok, just look around for books that look like they’ve been touched recently. No one really comes down here anymore so you’ll be able to tell by tracks in the dust. Or anything suspicious that someone might have left down here.”

Nevano looked around and felt his shoulders drop. Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched endlessly into the darkness. He had never seen so many books in one place before. It made his head swim a little. He grabbed a candle and chose a row at random. He didn’t have a magic gut to tell him which direction he needed to start looking. He was just going to have to get lucky.

Nothing stood out in particular unfortunately. Just dusty books crammed into every available space. Worse yet, none of the shelves were labeled. There was no organization that he could discern. He tried to make out some of the titles and words but the letters would jump around on the page, becoming a jumbled mess on the page to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was in a language he knew or something foreign. It was incredibly disorienting for him. It was why he hated having to read unless it was something interesting enough to warrant the effort and nothing here was striking that interest. 

A few rows down, something did finally catch his eye. In the thick dust on a shelf was a single clear spot, as if someone had pressed a finger into it. Nevano crouched down to get a better look at the books on the shelf. All of them were covered in the same think layer of dust except for one. The dust in front of it was still undisturbed but it was clear the book had been handled recently. He reached out and pushed the book back against the shelf and slid it up. From there he could grab it and pull it out without disturbing the dust around it. The book itself was unremarkable. There was no title stamped on the ancient leather cover and the words on the first few pages made even less sense than normal to him. Frowning, he made his way back to Jorun, still trying to decipher a single word. 

“Either I’ve become dumber over the years or this book is...in code maybe?” Nevano held up the book. 

Jorun took it from him and looked it over. “Not surprised you don’t recognize it. It’s in Velothi. I know you speak it but it’s not very often the language of the Ashlanders is written out. This is only the second time I’ve ever seen it. I almost forgot how intricate the vowel clusters are. Look here you can see...”

“Jorun!”

“Right. This is...this is fascinating. Where did you find it?”

“Down that row.” Nevano gestured vaguely down the room. “Someone went through a bit of effort to ensure no one would see they had pulled this book.”

Jorun scanned a few more pages before snapping the book shut. “I think we got what we need. Grab that pile over there and let’s get out of here.”

Nevano turned to the solitary table, fully expecting to see a small stack of books but instead was greeted by a massive pile that completely covered the entire table. “What the hell? Jorun, there’s enough here to fill a bookstore! Someone will notice this is missing!”

“Stop your whining. We need it all and I don’t care if someone notices.” Jorun waved him off. “I’ll return it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Eventually.”

“What makes you think I care if you return it or if it somehow winds up in your personal library?” Nevano mumbled, starting to stuff as many books and scrolls in his bag as he could. “Could steal this whole place and I would laugh. Just didn’t realize I was going to be used as your personal pack guar and carry half a damn library.”

“Oh, would you stop complaining? For Azura’s sake...”

“I’m not the fetcher who...”

“Shh, shh...” Jorun waved a hand to silence him. “Hear that?”

Above them, the heavy wood door creaked. Jorun’s eyes narrowed and, with a quick wave of his hand, extinguished the candles, plunging them into darkness. Nevano growled to himself. He was only armed with the small dagger in his boot and Bonebiter. Bonebiter was near useless in here; its devastating power would do more harm than good in such close quarters. He didn’t think Jorun would really be all that happy if he managed to destroy the archives in one shot. 

He jumped when something lightly touched his shoulder. He could feel rather than see Jorun behind him. Again he pushed at Nevano’s shoulder, turning him and giving him a slight push. Taking the hint, Nevano moved through the darkness until his hand touched a shelf. He crouched behind it, turning towards the sound of footsteps coming down the stone stairs. 

Whoever it was had the sense to not take a light with them. Nevano felt his heart beat faster as the footsteps came closer. He reached down and carefully removed his knife from his boot. A hand grabbed his and gave it a shake of disapproval. Jorun again. Nevano had to stop himself from jerking his hand away in annoyance. The footsteps had paused, perhaps not hearing the ever so slight noise, but sensing the movement. 

For several long, tense moments, they stood in the pitch dark. Jorun’s hand was perfectly steady on Nevano’s. Then, by some miracle, the intruding footsteps turned and moved away, down a row of shelves opposite them. Jorun let go of Nevano’s hand and gave him a gentle push towards the stairs. He didn’t need to be told twice.

Jorun slammed the door behind them and jammed a rock into the frame. It wouldn’t prevent the door from opening, but it would make it difficult to get open again. It was just enough to buy them enough time to get away. 

“Do you know who that was?” Nevano dared asked in curiosity as they hurried away quickly. 

Jorun grunted in annoyance. “We need to leave. It won’t be long before this place will be crawling with Thalmor.”

As they fled Rootspire and out into the streets of Blacklight, Nevano got the uncomfortable sense of being watched yet every time he looked behind, there was nothing there. Perhaps Jorun was right after all; the very walls had eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized that danger was a lot closer to home than he had initially thought. 

XxXxXx

Veleth walked through the streets, absently weaving through the mid-day crowds with practiced ease. No one paid any attention to him. They were fully absorbed in the shop carts and stalls lining the curving market streets, taking full advantage of the still-warm weather. They didn’t spare a glance towards the tall mer in plain clothes. Veleth highly suspected they wouldn’t have noticed him even if he was fully armed and armored. As it were, he was simply a part of the crowd, just another ordinary citizen, one of the hundreds in the streets. Exactly how he wanted it. 

“While your father and Nevano do their part, you have sneaking of your own to do.” His mother had told him. “You just have to remember, you are not a Redoran guard. You are not even a soldier. You are nothing. You have to swallow your pride and play the part of nothing. However just because you have to be nothing doesn’t mean you do nothing. Being nothing means you can do anything.” 

Sneaking. He was going to have to sneak and lie and all the things he had never liked or been particularly good at. He had been very much against it at first, resolutely setting his mind to try to find a way around it, but he hadn’t gone more than a few streets from home before he felt a prickle of warning deep in his gut . He knew then that he was being watched and followed. It had irritated him more than anything. He had turned down the market district in an effort to lose himself in the crowd but the feeling hadn’t faded. 

He feigned being jostled by a particularly pushy woman and stole a glance over his shoulder as he staggered a step. One Thalmor and two Dunmer soldiers in steel armor that told him they were guards from Rootspire, not his father’s men, were several dozen paces back. Nothing completely out of the ordinary except he could feel the Thalmor’s eyes drilling a hole in his back. What angered him more than anything was seeing the two Dunmer guard. Was Morrowind really so far under Thalmor influence that Dunmeri guard were at their beck and call? A red haze tugged at the edges of his vision as he thought about that. He would love nothing more than to slaughter the Thalmor right there, in front of hundreds of witnesses. However, he was armed with nothing more than his knife tucked away in his boot. It was sharp but not the best weapon against three well-armed opponents. Reluctantly the blood lust faded into the back of his mind. It would have to wait. 

His mind began to race. He needed to lose this tail but he just wasn’t so sure how without pinning them to a wall with something sharp. He was a fighter, not a thief or a spy or a scout or anything that relied on an ounce of subtly. 

“Just because you have to be nothing doesn’t mean you do nothing. Being nothing means you can do anything.”

Anything. He was a nothing, cut loose from the rules that bound him to everything he had been a part of. He glanced around at all the people around him. He was a nothing...but he was doing everything to protect them, this place, his home. His mind flashed to the swamp in southern Morrowind, the smell of rotting flesh and decaying foliage that had been overlaid with the scent of freshly spilled blood, the dying screams and battle cries of Dunmer and Argonian alike echoing in his mind as clearly as if it happened yesterday. He had wished he had been free from rules then, to protect his men from a senseless death. He wished he could have found the courage to tell the council to go kiss a guar’s ass. But...he could now, right? Wasn’t that what they were doing right now? Wasn’t he just handed freedom to do whatever it took to free his home? A thought popped into his mind, a challenge really, one that he wasn’t fully sure was his own. 

What are you going to do with it now?

Filled with a sudden jittery energy, Veleth glanced around. To his right was a fish stall, a wagon with chickens in a cage, and a textiles stall. To his right was a pottery seller, produce and an alchemist. As his eyes fell on the alchemist stall, an idea began to form. He wasn’t an alchemist by any means but, thanks to his mother, he was rather familiar with the process. More specifically, he was familiar with the byproduct of the ingredients. He had rather vivid memories of his childhood, of playing with the slick, jelly-like substance that came from hackle-lo leaves, one of the more popular ingredients in easy-to-make potions and salves. He slowed his pace and drifted closer to the stall, smiling to himself as he caught the familiar, crisp scent of hackle-lo and saw a large pot filled with it. Yes, his plan would work.

He paused, pretending to be distracted by the contents of a nearby stall, allowing his pursuers to get close. The Thalmor picked up the pace, pushing people out of the way in his haste. Just as they got close, Veleth kicked over the pot of hackle-lo jelly, spilling the slippery gel all over the street. Immediately, people began to slip and slide, including the three unsuspecting tails, comically crashing to the ground with a clatter of steel armor. Before they could recover their footing, Veleth allowed himself to be pushed back by the crowd...right into the cart full of chickens. 

Squawking chickens flew in every which direction, feathers wafting through the air thick as snow, sticking wonderfully to the hackle-lo gel. 

Veleth was a bit surprised at how much he was enjoying causing chaos. He could...get used to this. However, no matter how much he was enjoying himself, he needed to take advantage of the distraction and disappear before attention came back on him again. He pushed his way through the gawking crowd, finding it a bit harder to part the waters in plain clothes than he did in uniform. 

Finally breaking free of the crowd, he ran through the streets, ducking through side streets and alleyways and various other shortcuts he was familiar with. The rows of houses and shops began to fade the closer to the military ward he got. The buildings became less warm and homey and more stark and cold. When he reached a statue of King Moraelyn of the Ra’athim, he slowed a bit, fully within the bounds of the military ward. Then there was a small clatter of armor behind him and a muttered oath. He ducked down a small alley that led to a courtyard with several other alleys branching off from it. Tired of running and getting frustrated, Veleth chose one at random and stopped out of sight. It didn’t take long before his very annoyed pursuers came into view. 

“He’s down here somewhere.” The justicar snapped. 

“Look, this one is nowhere near as slippery as his father is.” The Dunmer guard sounded more than a little peevish as he plucked a few chicken feathers from his armor. “We didn’t even see him come down this way. You just guessed. It’s very likely he’s gone. Not sure why you Thalmor as so obsessed with him anyway.”

“He came back under suspicious circumstances. I don’t care what the official reasons are, I want him brought before the ambassador and questioned!” The justicar all but stomped his foot like a petulant child. “You will search for him as I told you to!”

“We were told to accompany you.” The other guard spoke up angrily. “Not get covered in shit and chicken feathers. That was warning enough for me. That man is a fighter and this was clear warning to stay away. He’s been on Solstheim for seventy years. You don’t survive there for that long on that nightmare spit and be a pushover. I, for one, don’t feel like being humiliated anymore than I already have today. You can keep looking for him if you want but our job here is done.”

Veleth smirked. So, some of his recruits had come back to the mainland with stories. Or at least some more favorable ones. He had sent a few back that undoubtedly had a less-than-savory things to say about him. He wasn’t sure what they would say if word got back about this. The twins would laugh and never let him live it down. Perhaps it would be best to just bask in the satisfaction now and then never bring this up again. 

The justicar didn’t stick around once his backup left. Perhaps he wasn’t as brave without something heavily armed and armed at his back...or perhaps he realized that Veleth already had a few ideas on how to permanently get rid of his problem. Either way, Veleth found himself mercifully alone and free to continue on his way. 

The Shad Astula had appropriated a building not quite in the military ward but not quite out of the market. It was tucked away, much how the occupants preferred it, away from the heavier flow of traffic and away from prying noses, mostly that of Thalmor. Mostly, as was typical for mages, they simply wished to be left alone. As long as the experimental explosions from spells gone wrong were kept to a minimum and escaped summoned creatures didn’t terrorize too many people, most of Blacklight was rather willing to grant them their wish. 

It was thick and stuffy in the school’s building. The stone walls were covered in thick, ancient tapestries, all the windows were shut and the drapes pulled, every candle and fire in the place was lit and roaring despite it still being warm outside. Immediately, Veleth felt sweat prickle on his forehead and down his spine. He was quite thankful he wasn’t wearing his heavy armor. 

As he moved through the entry hall, he was struck by the lack of Thalmor. Just about every building, especially places like this, had an abundance of Thalmor babysitters. There was no such thing here. In fact, there was a lack of any living being at all. Were it not the well-tended fires, he would have wondered if the place had been abandoned entirely. 

A strange chirp made him look up and the tiniest clannfear he had ever seen was standing on the stone stairs watching him, its tail quivering as it tried to balance. The reptilian daedra were normally waist-high to a man, with long, wickedly sharp claws that could easily slice through all but the thickest metal armor. This one was no bigger than a house cat and seemed about as friendly as it hopped down the steps one at a time, chirping excitedly. It certainly didn’t seem to have the intent to eviscerate him though, even if it did, he could probably punt it across the room before it did too much damage. What he was really curious about was what was it even doing here? Ever since the Oblivion Crisis, it was impossible for daedra to enter the mortal realms on their own. Unless a mage summoned it, usually with great difficulty. 

“You belong to a mage around here, little thing?” Veleth crouched down as the tiny daedra hopped over to sniff his boot. “You aren’t nearly as scary as your bigger cousins. As long as you don’t bite me I won’t make you a new decoration for the wall.” The clannfear looked up at him and chirped. A collar he hadn’t noticed earlier slipped, a small tag bouncing against its scaled chest said ‘Fluffy’. He cringed a little at the name, thinking no one in this city could give any creature a half-decent name. “Ok then...er, Fluffy. Where is your master?”

At the sound of its name, the clannfear let out a shrill trill that made Veleth wince and scurried back up the stairs. Veleth shrugged and followed the diminutive lizard through a maze of hallways that were every bit as hot and stuffy as downstairs. Unlike the entry hall, the smoke from the fires was heavily scented with some herb that he couldn’t identify. It was nauseatingly coy, making his head give a warning throb that threatened to turn into a massive migraine if he didn’t find fresh air soon. 

Finally, Fluffy squeezed through a door that was cracked open just enough to allow the tiny lizard to escape. Seeing as how the place had so far seemed to be completely devoid of life, Veleth was a little hesitant to push that door open. 

“Oh, there you are, Fluffy!” A voice exclaimed. “I was wondering where you had gotten off to. You must be careful. The last time you took off like that, they threatened to send you back to oblivion if you stole from the larders. We must be careful. Ever sine the Oblivion Crisis I can’t summon you as easily. You know that’s why you stay with me.”

Well, that explained the daedra. One minor mystery solved. 

Veleth shoved the door the rest of the way open. Fluffy chirped happily at him from a perch on a desk that made his father’s desk look neat by comparison. Scraps of parchment with random scribbles on it, wax drippings from candles, broken quills and powders from who-knows-what littered the desk here and there among piles and piles of books and scrolls. The rest of the room wasn’t in any better shape. In the middle of it all was a tiny Bosmer, nigh drowning in his robes. Suddenly the tiny clannfear made even more sense. 

The Bosmeri shrieked in surprise when he saw Veleth, sweeping up Fluffy. “I was given permission to be allowed to have him here!”

“I do not care one wit about your choice in pets.” Veleth said flatly. 

“Oh...then who are you? You aren’t here on behalf of the Redoran Council are you?” The Bosmer let Fluffy hop off his lap, straightening his robes nervously and trying his best to not look like Veleth had scared him half to death. “We already paid the damage costs for the shield experiment.”

“Again, no. I don’t care.” Veleth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who I am is not important.”

“Depends on what you want to know.” The Bosmer tried to stand tall but Veleth, who was already pretty tall for a Dunmer, towered over him. If he came up to Veleth’s middle he would have been shocked. Even Nevano was taller. 

“Let’s start with where everyone is.” While not important, Veleth’s curiosity was burning a hole in his mind. 

“Why, downstairs, of course.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Classes are held where things can be easier to contain. Ever since it rained frogs for three days, the council and the Thalmor demanded we take extra precautions.”

“How...do you make it rain frogs for three days?” Veleth blinked. “Wait, never mind. I don’t think I want to know. I probably wouldn’t get it anyway.”

“I couldn’t explain anyway. We still aren’t sure how that happened.” The mage tapped his chin. “Though I suppose that conjuration spell framework matrix was combined with...”

“Moving on.” Veleth cut him off, already lost in the ramblings. “While I’m not going to tell you who I am, I am not with the council and I’m certainly not with the Thalmor. I’m actually here about a mage that went missing.”

“Oh, you mean Lloden Salvi?” The mage blinked. “Yes. The scholar. He was a mage, part of House Telvanni back in the day that also worked with the Empirical Historic Society. Studied magical artifacts. I don’t know what he was studying in particular but it attracted the attention of the Thalmor. He’s not missing. Not technically anyway. They took him on an expedition related to what he was studying. Not sure where exactly.”

“Is that a common enough occurrence that no one seems to be really upset about it?” Veleth asked with a touch of irritation in his voice that he couldn’t help. 

“Well, we aren’t fond of the Thalmor, but you can’t deny the chance to be able to get out and get some good research in. Especially if its paid for by someone else.”

Veleth had to swallow his sense of incredulous outrage. “Did he ever tell you what he was studying or why the Thalmor may have wanted him?”

“No. He was very secretive and defensive about his studies. Typical Telvanni. And no, he said nothing about where he went. He was here one day and the next thing we know, Thalmor are in here, causing a massive fuss and demanding he go with them. I just happen to overhear them say they were leaving to the site with him. Most of his things were packed up and gone before most of us had a chance to even blink.”

Veleth turned to leave in frustration. This was getting nowhere. Maybe there was someone else in this place that could give a clearer explanation. 

“Oh! Before I forget. There was something I know he was studying before he moved on to his current subject.” Veleth paused. “I dare say they could be connected. He had been studying mythic creation artifacts and powers. Of course, I told him that such artifacts are so exceedingly rare and dangerous that we should count ourselves lucky that most are considered myth. Now that I think on it...I did see some drawings that pertained to the Nerevarine in his room once when I went to ask for my soul gem that he borrowed back.” The mage absently petted Fluffy as he spoke. “That caught my interest because I recently heard that the Thalmor had somehow gotten Hopesfire and Trueflame in their possession. Briefly though. Apparently someone stole them back again. I have to admit I find that hilarious as well as sad. I would have liked to have seen those. Not sure how they ended up here though. The Nerevarine hasn’t been heard of since his trip to Akavir though I guess he could have come back without a word.”

Veleth almost said that it probably wouldn’t be long before all of Blacklight would see those swords again and their wielder but he held his tongue. It wasn’t time for that. Not yet anyway. 

XxXxXx

“Lloden Salvi went willingly?” Nevano could see that Jorun’s mood wasn’t improved any at all by his son’s report on the missing mage. 

“Seems that way.” Veleth shrugged a bit. “It looks like the Shad Astula really doesn’t care what’s going on around them one way or the other as long as no one bothers them. The Thalmor taking a mage? One big research trip for them, fully funded. Not sure if that mage I talked to understood that this mage will probably be killed to maintain silence afterwards. Though...if that happens, we could probably stir up the Shad Astula.”

“I like that thinking.” Jorun nodded. “If we can get them to notice, we’ll use it.”

Veleth tilted his head from side to side. “There was something interesting that the Bosmer said. He said was that this scholar was part of the Empirical Historic Society. I never heard of that before. I’m not sure if it means anything to you.”

“Empirical Historic Society? Heh.” Jorun shook his head. “That lot dissolved out of Morrowind two hundred years ago. When the Oblivion Crisis occurred, they packed up and shipped back off to the Imperial City. Didn’t think any stayed but it’s been a while. A few could have crawled back. Anything else sound interesting?”

“Just what he was studying. No one knew why Salvi was taken since he was keeping his current research secret but it was mentioned that before he went secretive, he was studying...mythic creation artifacts.” 

“Creation artifacts? He actually said that?”

“What are those?”

“Well, it’s the dualism of religion, of Anu and His Other. Anuiel is perceived as order, as opposed to the Sithis-Chaos. They divide into the et’Ada and from there we get the Tamrielic pantheons which contain the archetypes of the...” Jorun trailed off as he took notice of the wide-eyed, blank stares in front of him. “Religious artifacts. We are talking about religious artifacts left behind by the gods.”

“So, like Azura’s Star or something like that?” Nevano finally dared to venture a guess. 

“Close. This has to do with artifacts relating to creation.”

“Creation? As in...creation of...of what?”

“Of everything. Of Mundus. Azura’s Star was an artifact that Azura created using her power. The creation artifacts were something that was used to maybe create Azura.” Jorun waved it off. “The topic is so obscure that it’s mostly a point of debate amongst scholars with too much time on their hands. One can spend days, weeks even, arguing over all that but we don’t have time for that.”

“No, we just have a mage who went on a holiday with some Thalmor, a stack of books that might be taller than Bull, a glowing red shard no ones a thing about and Drelasa is still holding my swords hostage.” Nevano said sarcastically. “Am I missing anything? Oh, and Vel still won’t say a word about the chicken feathers.”

Jorun grinned. “That about covers it. Though I’m sure word of any sort of feather incident will make its way around by morning. Sorry, son. Anyway, there is one thing. This book...Nevano you might have to help me with a few of the translations. I’m decent enough in Velothi but not fluent in it.” Jorun frowned. “In fact...this word right here. What is that?”

“That’s Chimeris. Only reason I know is because I got a dead Chimer in my head...” Nevano sighed and looked it over, carefully working it out. He hated how words tended to twist over themselves as he looked at them. “Roughly translated, it says ‘red tower’. Not sure what that refers to...”

Jorun froze, his eyes fixed on a point beyond them. “Red tower...” He repeated slowly. As the seconds stretched in silence, Veleth and Nevano exchanged a look, each daring the other to be the first to try to drag a clear answer from the older mer. Before they could decide, Jorun jumped up, scattering scrolls and books. Both younger mer yelped but he paid them no heed, rushing over to one of the many shelves crammed with books. “This is all connected. All this is connected.”

“All what?”

“It’s so obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner.” Jorun threw several books in the vague direction of the table, not bothering to really aim. 

“Enlighten us, if you wouldn’t mind, Da...” Veleth caught a few books before they hit him in the face.

“I will. First, though...” He spun around, pinning Nevano to his seat with an intense red-eyed stare. “What happened to the Heart?”

Nevano squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “What heart?”

“Don’t play dumb. The Heart. The Heart of Lorkhan.”

“It’s gone.” Nevano’s voice was flat despite his heart beating into his ribs.

“Are you sure about that?” Jorun pressed harder. “Are you absolutely positive?”

“I did exactly as I was told to.” Nevano allowed anger to color his voice, using anger as a way to escape the rising bile of fear in his belly. “Once with Sunder, then with Keening. I hit that stupid heart until it shattered.”

“Shattered?”

“I didn’t see. I heard a sound like ice breaking, then I was thrown back.” Nevano crossed his arms. “I was a bit more concerned with the cavern coming down around me and Dagoth Ur breathing down my neck. Why the hell do you want to know about the Heart? It’s gone, alright?”

“The Heart of Lorkhan is a creation artifact.” Jorun held up a book. “In punishment for creating mischief during the creation of the world, Lorkhan’s heart was separated from his self and thrown down into the mortal world, here, during the Dawn Era. That’s one story anyway. Doesn’t matter how it got to Red Mountain. It was there, it was real, it was used.”

“How is that in any way related to...”

“I’m not done yet.” Jorun scooped up several scrolls from the floor. “The Empirical Historic Society. They don’t just collect dusty old scrolls, they collect artifacts that had to do with the building of the empire. Or so they say. Usually what it would up being was treasure hunting whatever they could find from any era. Every faction had it’s treasures. However...I just saw it...here!” Jorun pulled a scroll out. “Dated five years after Nevano destroyed Dagoth Ur. There was an expedition led into Red Mountain, partly funded by House Telvanni, to try to uncover the truth as to what happened down there. Apparently they didn’t want to swallow the vague answers they were given and the revered Nerevarine kept disappearing on them.”

Nevano stared in horror, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. 

“By this account, they actually made it all the way to the Heart’s cavern.” Jorun’s eyes darted back and forth as he read with lightning speed. “They were looking for signs of a fight, wanting to know how it was that Nevano defeated Dagoth Ur and there were signs of blah blah blah it’s going on about very minor findings...there. Right there. They found it. The Heart didn’t just disappear. It couldn’t have. It’s an artifact. No mortal, no matter what tools he was wielding at the time, could destroy such a thing. They found the pieces.”

“Da, are you saying that the shell of the Heart of Lorkhan was in a box for the past two hundred years in a basement in the Imperial City?”

“Seems that way, son.”

“And are you also saying that the Thalmor found it and decided to take it, as well as a kidnapped expert on the Heart, who may or may not be somewhat willing, to an unknown location to do gods know what to it?”

“Sounds insane, doesn’t it?”

“There is no proof.” Veleth said bluntly. “We have a lot of circumstantial evidence that may or may not be connected but most of it is revolving around myth and theory.” 

“No. There is.” Jorun looked at Nevano, a spark of pity in his eyes.

Nevano felt his insides turn to ice as the horrible realization began to sink in. “Jorun…don’t say it.”

“I would have thought it to be impossible as well but the proof landed right in front of us, quite literally.” Nevano squeezed his eyes shut. “The Heart of Lorkhan did not disappear. It shattered. Its energy escaped but the shell remained. Now someone is tampering with that shell. How do we know this? Because we just pulled a very reactive piece of the Heart of Lorkhan from Nevano’s chest.”

XxXxXx

A/N: Did I just change lore around? Yes, I did. Oh yes, I did. It’s glorious.


	39. A Dignified Conversation

Chapter 38

A Dignified Conversation

XxXxXx

4E 201, 15th Frostfall – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano sat on the roof, watching Masser and Secunda slowly make their way across the sky, mulling over the day’s events. Missing mages, stolen information, a treasure hunting society he never knew about, the Heart of Lorkhan. Mostly his thoughts swirled around the Heart, the artifact used to turn three once-mortal chimer into gods, sent the dwemer into the cosmos and turned his life upside down and inside out. He thought he had seen the last of it when he had crawled, broken and bleeding, from that cavern. He thought that he was finished with the folly of the Tribunal when Vivec was reported to have vanished. He thought he had finally outrun that nightmare after two hundred years.

Turns out, he had merely run in a giant circle, leading straight back to it. There was no running from the past. Despite his best efforts, the powers that be just would not let him get away. 

“You always were one for high perches. More like a hawk than just the yellow eyes.”

Nevano didn’t look up at his oldest friend. “The Heart, Jorun. The Heart!”

“I know.” The older mer took a seat next to him. “I hoped for your sake it was something different entirely but there’s no denying it any longer.”

“You know, I’m less bothered that it was lodged near in my own heart for two hundred years and more bothered that someone dug the thing up!”

“Well, probably could have gotten it somewhere safe...had you told the truth about it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Nevano gave him an irritated look. “I was hoping that by saying nothing was left there that no one would think of crawling in those ruins. Why would they? A whole province of superstitious fanatics willingly crawling into a den of monsters where the biggest threat of their generation lived for centuries? Not something I saw happening when they can barely handle one of their own being born outside the province.”

“Until that heretic born outside the province crawled into Red Mountain on his own and came back out alive.” Jorun shrugged. “It kinda set the standard.”

Nevano muttered a few impolite words in Velothi. “I didn’t come out whole though. I barely remember waking up in Ghost Gate and I barely remember getting to Drelasa in Balmora. Apparently that happened over a course of several months. I only clearly remember the last few weeks and Drelasa poking at my shoulder, telling me I was lucky. Don’t remember feeling particularly lucky.”

“The world doesn’t know about that part though. In the end, none of that even matters. The remaining pieces of the Heart were found. By whom matters even less. The Thalmor would have gotten their paws on it either way. With both the empire and Morrowind in their grasp...it really was a mere matter of time. What’s bothering me is that I had no idea there was even such an expedition, even with such prominent sponsors. You would have thought that it would have been the talk of the province. The crown jewel of Morrowind’s dark past, something we tend to venerate.”

“That was before the Armigers were a spy network. Fairly certain there were a handful that new but then oblivion gates opened everywhere and a volcano erupted and those that knew conveniently forgot or were killed.” Nevano shrugged. “Plus, what would it have accomplished? The Heart was dead. You said so yourself; it’s power fled. That was just the shell. Who knows where that power went?”

“Nevano…that shard is still pulsing.” Nevano finally looked up to see the worry creasing Jorun’s face. “I think this means more than you realize.”

“What are you trying to tell me?” Nevano narrowed his eyes. “Are you thinking that Lorkhan’s power is still there? That’s impossible. The death of the Tribunal proved that.”

“No, he means that he’s worried someone is reassembling the pieces of the Heart and is attempting to revive or re-harness energy into it, for whatever reason.” Veleth joined them on the roof. 

“Jorun, you know I never say that you are paranoid. Well, you are but that paranoia is always right so I can’t outright say it…it’s rather frustrating at times.” Nevano said. “However, this time I can say for certain that there is no way.”

“How so?”

Nevano motioned the two to follow him back inside where he dragged his pack out. Keening slid from its sheath to clatter on the ground. Wraithguard soon joined it in an ominous pile. Nevano found it interesting to watch the two Veleth’s expressions. Jorun, who had lived in the fear-filled days of Dagoth Ur’s reign, looked as if he wished they would catch on fire and turn to dust. His son, by stark contrast, who had only ever experienced the glory-filled stories of the artifacts, was less wary and more curious. 

“Hard to reactivate a dead heart without the tools.” Nevano picked up Keening with his bare hand and waved it around. “Which are also dead.”

“Where is Sunder?” Jorun’s voice was as hard as stone.

“I hid it in Balmora, which was buried in a volcanic eruption.” Nevano said. “As I said; dead, gone and buried.”

“Hide those. Now.” Jorun’s said tersely. “I have a bad feeling you won’t like.”

Nevano sheathed Keening and returned them to his pack. “Do I ever?”

“You need to retrieve Sunder.”

Nevano looked up sharply, alarm twisting his stomach. “Jorun…”

“The Thalmor sought to use Trueflame and Hopesfire against us. You stole them back. They know it was you. You recklessly declared war on them and all but announced yourself to the world. Do you think your trip to Mournhold went unnoticed? They are searching for you. Every day that noose grows tighter. They know that you are the best thing we have in uniting Morrowind against them and what better way to discredit you than to undo all that you have done?”

“It would be easier to outright kill me.”

“No. They understand our society well enough to know that you’ll be seen as martyr and inspire a mob uprising. Too messy.”

“But why? The Heart is dead! How many times do I have to say that?!” Nevano cried out in frustration. “They can’t have recovered every little piece. There was one in me! The tools are dead. Keening is so weakened it’s little more than decoration at this point. Even Wraithguard is weak. Sunder is probably worth only something you can hang on a wall. You probably can’t even use it as a normal hammer! What could they possibly hope to get from this?”

“First and foremost? To prove you wrong. As to the Heart. More than likely to disastrous results but that’s why you must go.” Jorun insisted. “Even if the tools are dead, its obvious by the flaring in this single shard that the Heart is not. Someone is messing with it. Someone is putting some sort of power into it or trying to pull whatever residual power is in it out. This is a warning, Nevano, a warning we must heed. This has to be stopped.”

Nevano felt as if the ground was shifting beneath his feet. He frantically tried to make sense of it all but his mind spit it all back as nonsense. “I still don’t see why.”

“Even if they fail is getting it to do what they want, they will still prove that you didn’t destroy the Heart… they seek to strangle our little rebellion rather than destroy it. Much quieter that way. How very Dunmer of them.” Veleth said wryly. “You know, right before the ash spawn started attacking Raven Rock, I had a conversation with Dreyla. She mentioned that her father had heard about the Thalmor digging around in Vvardenfell. I dismissed it at first because I saw no reason for the Thalmor to go there but what if they actually are? The Thalmor sticking their nose into Vvardenfell’s reconstruction, that mage being whisked off to the island, everything about the Heart happened on Vvardenfell, this is all no series of coincidences. That would chalk to Fethis being right up to...heh, once.”

“Of all the things to be right about…” Nevano felt a crater open in his belly as a memory surfaced. “Vith. Gods damn it, Azura gave me a dream. She took me to Balmora, or what was left of it. I saw something being built there. At first I thought it was the rebuilding efforts but...”

“Best not to argue with a god. A real one, that is.” Veleth shrugged.

“Oh, I argue with her and defy her on a regular basis. I just somehow always end up doing what she wants.” Nevano huffed. “Fine. Oblivion take us all, we’ll go. I sure hope for your sake, Bull, that Solstheim got your lungs used to that ash because we’re about to be inhaling a lot of it.”

“You will need to be very careful there. Vvardenfell is now a wild place.” Jorun warned. “And if the Thalmor actually are there, they will be on guard. They are not best pleased by the reports coming from Mournhold. They might be distracted by the fighting in Skyrim but that will end soon, especially if the Dragonborn decides to intervene like you said he might. Then they will turn their attention fully on stopping you and stopping us. There’s no one else in the east to oppose them.”

“I refuse to put hopes on the Argonians doing all of Tamriel a favor and destroying the Thalmor. I suppose the biggest question now is how to get to the damn island.” Nevano said, reigning in all his misgivings with extreme difficulty. 

“Far easier said than done.” Jorun said. “It’s going to take a while for me to find a way to get you two there without attracting too much attention. It’s coming on winter. The rebuilding efforts on Vvardenfell are suspended in the winter months because the supply ships don’t like going through rough seas to such an unlivable place. It’s already starting to slow down. I wish this had happened a few months ago but that’s the way things go.”

“Nothing is ever easy.” 

“No. I think I’m going to have to call in a few favors for a bit of help in this.” Jorun didn’t sound pleased. “For right now, the best you two can do is stay out of trouble.” 

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Nevano shrugged.

That earned him a withering look from both Veleth’s. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 18th Frostfall – Blacklight, Morrowind

Nevano spent the next several days learning all he could about what had gone on in Vvardenfell over the past few centuries. He didn’t want to say he had deliberately forgotten about the island but he had gone out of his way to avoid it ever since the mountain had erupted nearly on top of him. It was a rather bittersweet thinking about it. Many bad memories had been buried under layers of ash and lava but just as many good memories had been buried as well. He had wanted the island cleansed of the evil that the Tribunal had invited in but he didn’t mean for it to be quite so drastic. 

He bit his lip as he looked over the updated map Jorun had given him, his old, weathered map sitting in comparison next to it. It was incredible how Red Mountain had, quite literally, wiped the map clean. Vivec City was a nothing but a crater. Ald’ruhn, already battered from the Oblivion Crisis, paid greatly for its precarious position right up against the mountain. Balmora had been greatly damaged but it seemed the foyadas had served their purpose, sparing the city the brunt of the mountain’s onslaught. Most of the smaller towns had suffered greatly or been wiped off the map entirely. Strangely enough, many of the Telvanni cities and towns in the Grazelands had been relatively spared, by comparison at least, but the Telvanni, greatly weakened by the Oblivion Crisis, had instead chosen to flee entirely, their great mushroom towers left to wither. None had returned to reclaim their old home, for none remained after the Argonians had hunted them down during their march on Morrowind. Or at least that was how the story was told. Nevano knew Neloth was alive and well and was willing to bet there were more pockets of survivors here and there. That was a crafty bunch that should never be counted out until skeletons were found. 

Still, no one had been brave enough to attempt to rebuild Sadrith Mora, not even to get near Wolverine Hall. There had reports of scouts feeling eyes on them and had fled, thinking the area haunted or, even worse, inhabited by creatures that had a taste for man flesh. Nevano knew better though. So had Jorun, who had snorted derisively when he recounted the tales. Certainly Nevano could see how there would be reports of hauntings, especially if the reporters were unfamiliar with how phantom-like the Ashlanders could move when they wanted to. He was glad, yet unsurprised, to learn that the Ashlanders had survived the eruption. Of course they would. If anyone on that island could, it would be the people who lived every day in the most inhospitable lands in the province. 

The rebuilding efforts were agonizingly slow. Jorun had mentioned it was because there were few supplies, few funds, few willing ships and even fewer willing laborers to make the treacherous trip to the volatile island. Bit by bit things had progressed but so far no one had made the leap into living there full time. Nevano didn’t blame them. Vvardenfell had been dangerous even when fully settled. Now it had run wild for decades. The danger was tenfold now. Interestingly, the Ashlanders hadn’t made contact with any of the rebuilding efforts but Nevano had no doubt they knew exactly what was going on. He was rather curious about that, since the Ashlander tribes weren’t known to be overly merciful and they wouldn’t be all that keen to share the island they believed to be theirs again. Something was going on there and Nevano really wanted to know what.

“It’s not going to be an easy journey there.” Nevano looked up as Jorun sat down across from him with a heavy sigh. “I really hate to do this in the winter months but that can’t be helped.”

“The rough seas will make it difficult to dock anywhere in the West Gash or Sheogorad regions. Too many little islands to navigate. I really don’t feel like being shipwrecked.” Nevano poked at the map while making a face. “You might not like scheduling this but you aren’t the one stuck on a floating piece of wood out in rough seas.”

“I was thinking the old site of Hla Oad. You said you had a dream from Azura that showed you Balmora, so that’s as good a place as any to start looking around. I almost said Gnaar Mok but there’s a Thalmor staging area there due to its more direct route to Balmora. If there is something going on, they will be in there. No one goes to Hla Oad anymore.” Jorun said. “It’s a complete ruin but it’s easy to land there.” 

“None of this will happen if we can’t get a boat out there.” Nevano raised an eyebrow. “It’s been weeks. We are running low on time.”

Jorun made a face. “That is where the problems begin. See, I have a certain someone who is perfect for the job that owes me a favor. A big one. The problem is, this individual is, more or less, the unsavory type. He can renege on a debt owed to me and there’s not a whole lot I can really do about it without it coming back to bite me. Too many strings attached, you know?”

Nevano carefully kept his face neutral. “Are you subtly giving me permission to go do whatever it takes to get someone to fulfill a debt to you without getting into any sort of trouble?”

Jorun’s face was equally neutral. “I will clear all patrols in the area for a few hours.”

“Don’t mention your name?”

“That’s always the first rule.”

“...I’m taking the boy.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

“I’ll leave as soon as the sun goes down.”

“Hosni. Redguard. Captain of ship of a certain repute. Drinks more than you do.”

“Check every shore tavern for a pirate. Got it.” A wicked grin finally cracked it’s way across Nevano’s face as Jorun smirked in amusement. Outside, a burst of cold wind made every being out in the streets shiver. 

nnnnn

Ever true to his word, Nevano waited until Masser and Secunda were high in the sky before dragging Veleth out into the streets. Much to his delighted surprise, it didn’t take nearly as much cajoling to get the younger mer to go along with the plan, though he strongly suspected it was less him breaking down those rigid morals and more Veleth was too exasperated to want to argue at this point. Still, Nevano was going to take what he could get. He had a sneaking suspicion that one of these days, Veleth was liable to lob off with something so underhanded that he would cry tears of joy. Certainly Veleth’s parents would be proud. He’d be an unstoppable force after that but Nevano was willing to live with that. 

They proceeded in silence for the most part, the feeling of being watched heavy on their shoulders as they left the safety of the city’s walls and made their cautious way to the docks. Slipping past the massive wall separating the city from the sea was far too easy this late at night; no one was actually watching the closed gates and it didn’t take much for the rather strong Veleth to lift it enough for them to get through.

“What, exactly, is the plan here?” Veleth asked, watching a cat slink down a dock in search of the vermin that loved to hang around ships. 

“Nothing too fancy, really.” Nevano eyed the same cat, though more to make sure the rat it was after didn’t decide to run his way. “Just convince a pirate that it is in his best interest to fulfill his promise of repayment to Jorun and secure us a way to Vvardenfell.”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that ‘convincing’ him might be a tad bit problematic?”

“Oh, the convincing part is easy.” Nevano said. “The hard part comes in not getting hurt yourself while convincing him. He himself might not be a problem, just stand out of the way while he accidentally falls down a flight of stairs four or five times, but he might have a few friends who might not have enough sense to just quietly sit by and watch.”

“Nevano...”

“There is only one question that is even acceptable at this point and that is, do you want to be the one that helps him fall down the stairs or do you want to take care of any lackeys that show up?”

The pause that followed was long enough that Nevano figured Veleth had finally gotten too exasperated and was shutting down. That was fine. Whatever mood he was boiling up, he could take it out on whatever friends this pirate had in the wings. It would probably be far safer for everyone in the long run that way...

“Does it have to be stairs?”

“I think there will only be three or fou-wait, what?” Nevano tripped a bit as Veleth’s words fully sunk in. 

“Does it have to be stairs?” Veleth’s voice never wavered. “Not always stairs available. Plenty of other things that you can use that’s easier to find, move or use to displace suspicion.”

In his, admittedly delighted, shock, Nevano tripped over a coiled bundle of rope and nearly toppled headfirst into a discarded bucket. As he jumped up, struggling to retain what dignity he had left, he heard Veleth sigh in exasperated annoyance. 

“Is it really so shocking to you? For the past several months all I’ve been hearing is that I need to figure out how to make this work, that I need to change. I won’t be what you want, but I can start somewhere. Besides,” Veleth shrugged a little, “Beating up a pirate isn’t exactly breaking any rules. No one is going to really care.”

“I’m just surprised I didn’t have to talk you into it more.” Nevano said honestly. 

Veleth’s shoulders dropped a little. “This is my home. I don’t appreciate someone thinking they can take it away from us, especially since we fought so hard to be apart from them. Morrowind has suffered enough without the Thalmor making it worse. If protecting my home means I have to change a little, so be it.”

Nevano nodded but said nothing about the note of hesitation in Veleth’s voice. He was ready to do what was needed, yes...but he was still holding back. There was still a small tether in the back of his mind that prevented him from fully seeing everything around him. Nevano understood how it felt. He had gone through the exact same process when he had become Nerevarine. It would take something massive, and rather brutal, for the lesson to fully sink in. Nevano just hoped, prayed even, that it wouldn’t be as bad as his was. He could still hear the corprus-stricken girl’s dying screams...

“There’s three taverns I can think of that are a good likely place to start looking.” Veleth abruptly changed the subject. “The Stucked Fish, The Winded Maid and Balver’s Cornerclub. Those three are closest to the docks and most likely to have the man we’re looking for. If not, I know a few more less than ideal taverns to try.”

“Most people, drunk pirates especially, have loyalties to a particular place. Usually it’s the one closest to their ship. Or the one with the prettiest girls.”

“That would be the Winded Maid.”

“I’m curious as to how you know this.” Nevano smirked as the tips of Veleth’s ears flushed darker than the rest of him even in the gloom around them. 

“That is a story I’d rather not get into but let’s just go with that that place is where I learned that thinking with the south end gets one in a lot of trouble.” Veleth’s ears were fully flushed now. 

“You know, you put on such a good show of being so uptight and well behaved when in truth you are every bit as wild and crazy as the rest of us.” Nevano smirked. 

“Shut up.” Veleth snarled. 

Nevano smirked wider but didn’t push. He was too delighted in finding out this fun little tidbit. 

Veleth growled to himself, now truly worked up into a temper, and stormed over to a nondescript door to a rather dank building. A rotted wood sign swung in the briny breeze over the door proclaiming “The Winded Maid” in barely legible letters, a crude drawing of a rather buxom woman curved around the title. It was such a typical seedy dock tavern that Nevano was rather sorry he wasn’t here to drink until he ran out of gold. These types of places were always fun with strong booze, cheap women and an incredibly dangerous clientele to top it off. The door swung open and the familiar dingy odor of stale beer, body odor and an overall grubbiness surrounded Nevano like a second skin. He stepped through the door and the smell grew stronger to the point of making his eye twitch a bit. All bars and taverns carried the same stench, some to a far less degree and some to a far more. No one would ever bother to fix it because after a few drinks, no one cared any more. Often times he wondered if the smell was deliberately encouraged, trying to get patrons to drink more faster. 

No one even glanced in their direction as they stepped in but Nevano has the distinct feeling that every person in the room had already sized them up. The small knife he always kept in his boot pressed heavily against his ankle. Despite the dingy décor, the smell and the initial distrustful feeling, the interior of the tavern was very bright and raucous. Drunk seaman looking for a good time filled the place to the brim gambling, laughing, grabbing the scantily-clad barmaids as they wove their way around the room and attempting to sing before they either passed out or were shushed by their crew mates. Nevano could see why a young Dunmer male would find this a fun place to find trouble in. Too bad they had a job to do right now. 

It wasn’t difficult to spot Hosni. He was the only Redguard in the place, in the middle of the loudest, rowdiest group in the place. Nevano carefully assessed the group. There was definitely more than three or four men surrounding the captain and they were happily throwing handfuls of gold at the girls who kept the flow of alcohol going. He hoped Jorun hadn’t been expecting this to be a quiet event. A massive group of pirates who were obviously fresh off the sea, throwing their freshly earned gains around like it would never run out was not going to go down quietly. Especially when they had been drinking liquid encouragement for the past several hours. 

Nevano grabbed a chair, spun it around backwards and sat down. “I’m here to see a man about a debt.”

“I don’t owe nobody no debt.” The pirate captain didn’t look up at all. 

“We’re off to an amazing start.” Nevano said. “Unfortunately, for you at least, Dunmer have very long, very clear, and rather vengeful memories. If you can’t remember, I’m more than happy to refresh your memory. Let’s try to not do anything hasty.”

“I said I don’t owe nobody anything.” Hosni finally looked up, his dark eyes piercing deep into Nevano’s with contempt. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as he first appeared. 

“Oh but you do, and you know you do.” Nevano put on his most charming smile. “That favor is now being called in. It really would be in your best interest to do so.”

“I’m curious to see how he plans on enforcing that.” Hosni returned the smile. “After all, he won’t want to...look bad.”

“More like you don’t want to be seen as the pirate who can’t cover his own ass in a city of elves.” Veleth broke in, his irritation getting the best of him. Several of Hosni’s men stood up threateningly but Nevano knew they didn’t have a snowflake’s chance in oblivion at scaring Veleth. “I don’t even know why we’re bothering to waste our time here on these s’wits.”

“Hey!” One huge Nord stepped up angrily. “I won’t hear any of your sniveling elven insults.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to speaking stupid like you require. So I’ll try again.” Veleth snapped back. “I’m wasting my time on you n’wah who couldn’t tell a shaved donkey’s ass from his own mother’s face!”

Veleth took the punch square in the jaw. He fell back against the table, knocking over several drinks and a chair. The whole tavern went silent, the atmosphere switching from drunkenly jovial to soberly tense in an instant, all eyes on the two groups squaring off against each other. 

Smoothly, Nevano scooped up a bottle of flin before it toppled off the table. “Now, that wasn’t very nice. Here we were, trying to have a nice conversation and you go and do that.” He sighed and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Veleth regained his feet, his eyes predatory and his movement as slow and deliberate as an angry dog looking for the best place to strike. Nevano dragged two small clay mugs over and poured out some of the flin, handing one to the younger mer. “I’m afraid that you’ve forced our hand now. Besides...you made him mad. I’ll greatly enjoy watching him kick your arses.”

He and Veleth exchanged a look and nodded. They knocked back the flin, slammed the mugs upside down on the table. Then Veleth tackled the massive Nord pirate that punched him back down on to another table, smashing it to bits as they both went down in a flurry of fists. 

As if a starting bell had been rung, the rest of the tavern erupted into violent chaos. Anything that wasn’t nailed down, tables, chairs, bottles, glass, cups, were thrown recklessly around. The horrified proprietor of the tavern desperately tried to get things under control but quickly gave up when a cup shattered above his head and slunk away to lock himself into the back room to wait out the storm. Most of the sailors and pirates in the tavern were already so drunk they simply threw punches indiscriminately, often missing their mark, just happy to just be a part of a brawl. Even the scantily clad women took part, leaping on men’s backs and clawing at them and each other, screeching like banshees. Hosni’s men, however, were understandably focused on the two Dunmer that started it all. 

Nevano swayed to the side as a pirate dove for him and let him crash headfirst into the bar behind him. He reached back and blindly grabbed a bottle and raised it, fully intending to whack another pirate into unconsciousness but then he caught sight of the label. “Oh, wait, nope, that’s good stuff!” He brightly told a very confused pirate. He reached back for another and checked the label. Common mazte. Perfect. That one was shattered over a thick skull. The first bottle he popped open and took a generous swing. “I need to start coming to shore taverns more often...”

“Nevano!” Veleth rose up from a pile of bloody pulp, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Are you kidding?”

“No one ever won a brawl like this perfectly sober.” Nevano grinned and tipped the bottle at him. “You just might be the first though.”

“Would you...” Veleth was cut off as he dodged another punch and threw the offender headfirst into the wall. “Would you please contribute somehow?”

“Oh I am. Watch.” Nevano took another swing from the bottle and, using only the only meager spell he knew, lit a small flame in his hand. Then he took in a deep breath through his nose and spat the whiskey out as hard as he could. The result was an impressive gout of flame that caught a few pirates’ clothes on fire. It didn’t do any harm, not much anyway, but it sent every drunk patron in the tavern running for the exit like panicked rats, leaving only Nevano, Veleth, Hosni and his men. 

Nevano whipped out Bonebiter, knocked an arrow with impressive speed and aimed right between the stunned pirate captain’s eyes. “I’m out of patience, Hosni. Are you willing to repay your debts or do I need to show you why this bow is called Bonebiter?”

“Who are you people and what do you want?” Hosni didn’t take his eyes off the arrow that held steady in front of his face.

“We need passage to Vvardenfell.”

“Ha! I’d rather be taken out with that bow of yours that go to that accursed place.”

With a frustrated growl, Veleth threw the final pirate across the room and stormed over, grabbing the Redguard by the throat and slamming him against the wall. “I have about had it with you! There is a lot at stake but I won’t lose any sleep tonight if there is one less pirate in the world.”

“Whoa, Vel, whoa!” Nevano started, fairly alarmed to see Veleth’s eyes nearly glowing a violent red. “Easy, Bull. We do need him alive.” 

For a tense moment it seemed as if Veleth didn’t hear him but he finally threw the pirate down in disgust and stepped back. Nevano had never seen him so enraged before and, to be honest, it scared him a bit. He had had a sneaking suspicion that something had happened while they were in Mournhold. This just confirmed that something was off. However this was not the time nor the place to delve into it. He let Veleth step back and cool down while turning attention to Hosni.

“I don’t think you understand! I can’t just take you to the damned island.” Hosni croaked, rubbing at his neck with a wince. “Damn ox...”

“I would start explaining.” Nevano waved the arrow around. “It’s really not good for business to back out of a debt owed to a Dunmer.”

“Bloody hell...” The captain groaned. “Look, I would love to help. I do owe that guard captain quite a bit but I didn’t think he’d ask for that or else I would have told him to pound sand. Not that there’s much sand around here. You don’t just go to Vvardenfell. You want Thalmor all over your ship, you point your bow towards that damned volcano. You have to have permits and records and actual honest cargo to be allowed to sail those waters. Then you have to have papers proving you unloaded your cargo and that you were permitted to leave and it’s all so...honest. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t do honest work. Doesn’t pay nearly enough.”

“What if we got you cargo and papers?”

“It’s still...”

“You will land near an old smuggler’s town.”

“So?”

“I know where an old pirate ship tried to dock and went aground a long time ago. I know where the cargo was hidden. It was still there the last I saw of it and no one has been in the area since the eruption. You do what we tell you, you will get papers of safe passage. Then all you have to do is wait. Then when everything is complete, you will get the location of the lost cargo, you can take all that you want and then you can go on with your happy, dishonest lives as you please. You can consider your debt repaid and you won’t ever have to see Blacklight ever again.”

Hosni narrowed his eyes. “What kind of loot are we talking about?”

“Narcotics, precious gems, dwemer artifacts and some old relics that will be worth money to the right people.”

“Those narcotics will long be worthless.”

“The rest won’t be.” Nevano shrugged. “Might stink a little from the sea water but I doubt that that is a concern to you.”

Hosni huffed, catching the insult immediately. Several of the other bloody pirates that had managed to stagger to their feet started up but quickly sat back when Veleth cracked his knuckles. Even the captain eyed Veleth with more than a few misgivings. “Fine! Fine...but there better be good treasure there or you’ll be paying...” Veleth narrowed his eyes. “FINE! We’ll take you. Tell your friend we are ready and waiting just call off your dog!”

“What, who, him?” Nevano motioned vaguely at Veleth. “Oh, he aint mine. Never seen him before today. I think he just likes beating up dumb pirates.”

He got a good laugh at the horrified looks on the faces around him. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 19th Sun’s Dusk – Blacklight, Morrowind

A month later, they boarded the vessel “The Abecean Windmaid”. It was the last vessel to leave before the rebuilding efforts were shut down for winter though it was warily late leaving with the rest of the fleet, but given how they had to scramble to find something that would pass as suitably believable cargo, it was a miracle they were able to push off at all. 

Veleth was not exactly at his most comfortable. Having grown up along the coast, he knew the ocean well. He knew how generous the ocean could be and just how quickly it could turn spiteful. During winter, it was more inclined to be as cold and spiteful as a scorned woman. Though he loved the ocean and his heart always sped up when he smelled the briny scent of it on the wind, he had set his sights inland, preferring to trust his feet on solid earth rather than a boat on a more dubious surface. He was not looking forward to whatever nasty surprise his gut was telling him to look out for. 

The only good part, he thought as he quietly claimed a space for himself, was that they would have no problems from the crew. Judging by the rather blanched looks thrown his direction, none of them had forgotten the beating they had taken. Well, one or two had shot him a more defiant look but he was fairly certain Nevano wasn’t going to take issue if he had to remind these idiots that a former Redoran commander would always wipe the floor with sloppy fighters whose bravery came from a bottle. 

Speaking of the smaller mer, he was looking positively miserable. It was no secret that Nevano had no love for boats or anything to do with salt water, but he hadn’t replaced the majority of his blood with alcohol like he swore he would do. In fact, Veleth was pretty sure he hadn’t drank anything at all. He was curious if his formidable mother had anything to do with that. He wasn’t going to ask though. Nevano had squeezed himself into a corner so small he was barely noticeable, curling up tighter when the ship lurched a little as it shoved away from the dock. 

Fortunately, for all their sakes, it wouldn’t take nearly as long to land on Vvardenfell as it took getting from Solstheim to Blacklight. To start with, the ships going to and from Solstheim were not the best ships out there and definitely not the fastest. Then there was the rough seas themselves. Solstheim had horrible rocky shores pitted with chunks of ice that liked to appear out of the mists suddenly. In order to keep from their ship from joining the countless others on the ocean floor, captains had to inch their ships towards the island foot by painfully slow foot while blasts of frigid Skyrim wind tossed them like toys. The pirate ship they were on now was built for speed, mostly to escape pursuit, and it was rather clear sailing to their destination. They would make it to Hla Oad in just a few days. 

Willing to give Nevano space, Veleth spent the next day watching the faint outline of Vvardenfell’s shore slip by on the horizon. The mainland to the other side was out of sight. It was so far a very boring trip. The gray wintery sky made the cold, choppy waters look like iron beneath them. The wind had picked up but Veleth, who suffered through far too many nasty Solstheim winters, wasn’t bothered. It wasn’t too terribly cold yet. Another month and this would be positively miserable. A few of the crew already seemed to be taking issue with the weather conditions. One such disgruntled individual stumbled into Veleth, cursing as he did so. Veleth, shaken out of his reverie, shot him a nasty look but otherwise did nothing. 

“You’ve been distracted lately.”

Veleth glanced over to see Nevano make his shaky way over to join him at the railing. “Is it that obvious?”

“Were it anyone else? Not really.” Nevano shrugged. “But you? Very. Especially if you were willing to let someone run into you like that and get away with it.”

“It’s...nothing. Really.”

“Just be careful.” Nevano’s arms wrapped around his chest as a large wave made the ship roll lazily. “That temper of yours has been getting the better of you lately.”

That was rather what he was afraid of. Things were getting out of control and he just didn’t know how to stop it. Or rather...he did but he didn’t want to do it. Desperate to change the subject, he asked instead. “You held on to Wraithguard and Sunder was hidden in Balmora, where was Keening?”

“I...gave it to Vivec. Call it a lapse in judgment, call it a rare moment of generosity or even call it a cruel reminder, but I gave the bastard the sword.” Nevano frowned as he looked out over the water. “I didn’t really think anything of it at the time. I didn’t want the tools. I barely tolerate Wraithguard but I knew that if I kept at least one with me, no one could mess with the others. Red Mountain erupting just made keeping them hidden all the easier, or so I thought. With Vivec gone, I...I don’t know what I thought. Who knows what happened to Keening after I left it. It’s not like the damned thing can write to me.”

“And then it came back to your possession through the form of a mage?” Veleth eyed Nevano carefully. The smaller mer had been very cagey telling the story of how Keening came back to him. 

“Quit giving me that look.” Nevano scowled. “It’s not because I won’t tell it...it’s because I’m not sure how.”

“What do you mean?”

“That mage was trying to use Keening.” Nevano directed his dark scowl over the water. “I owed him a favor so I helped out, without realizing what he was planning on doing. I didn’t realize just what he was planning until it was too late. I would have stopped him otherwise. He had a soul gem that he struck Keening with...then he was gone.”

“Gone?” White hot shock ran through his mind, wiping away any thought in its wake. His gut sent a warning through his body so sharp that the air left his lungs. 

“Gone.” Nevano confirmed. “There was nothing left. No trace he ever existed. Just me, Keening and a soul gem. I took Keening and left. I didn’t know what else to do and I wasn’t about to leave Keening with the mages in Winterhold. Would have finally wiped out the whole school then.”

“I...” His mind began to painfully grind back into gear. “That...I wish you had mentioned that sooner. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what that would mean but whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

“I gathered that from watching a mage disappear. It wasn’t a pleasant spell.” Nevano twitched his head a little, his stare distant. “Keening...wanted to stop the spell. It was screaming. I remember it screaming. It hurt like hell. The spell was not natural. Whatever happened felt like...reality was splitting in half. It was far too familiar for comfort.”

Veleth stayed quiet, the enormity of what Nevano said suddenly dropping on his shoulders like a boulder. Mages, Keening, soul gem, reality splitting...the words swirled around in his mind, frantically trying to settle into the equation he knew was there but was just out of reach. One thing was for certain; Keening held more latent power than he or his father or Nevano were giving it credit for. Briefly, he wondered if they should just drop the cursed thing to the bottom of the Inner Sea. Briefly though. Very brief. Keening had some part left to play in all this, his gut told him. Best to keep it close, despite every misgiving he could think of. 

They lapsed into silence that lasted into the evening. The clouds broke up enough to allow glimpses of yellows and oranges of the setting sun through. It was a cheery change but it did nothing to lift the mood that Veleth now found himself in. In the fast fading distance, Vvardenfell’s shore was dark and gloomy. It made him shiver and not because of the wind. Next to him, Nevano had turned around and was leaning against the railing, staring upwards at the sky.

“Is it me or are those clouds turning dark pretty fast?”

Veleth glanced over his shoulder briefly before spinning around in alarm. Black clouds were billowing up overhead at an alarming rate. Lightning flashed angrily within the growing clouds and an opposing gust of cold wind hit the sails hard enough to make them snap like a whip. All movement on the boat stilled as everyone stopped to stare at the unnatural phenomenon building in front of them. 

Nevano’s face paled several shades. 

“No storm builds that quickly.” Hosni said, walking across the deck. “Not even off elven coasts where magic is finicky. Something doesn’t want us here. No storm has ever beaten us yet though. Get the ship ready for a gale! Tighten her down and get ready to run. They can’t follow us forever! Get those ropes secure! If I see anything flapping, the next thing I want to see is the one responsible flapping his way into the water!” 

As if breaking the spell, the boat broke out into action. Sailors began running around, following bellowed orders to secure the ship. Veleth found himself backed into the same corner as a blanched-faced Nevano, trying to stay out of the way of the sudden flurry as the ship began to rock with the increasing intensity of the water. Somehow, over the controlled chaos, he could hear Nevano murmuring rapid-fire in Velothi. Veleth understood more of the Ashlander language than the average city mer but he wasn’t perfectly proficient. However, he caught every single curse, which comprised roughly a third of the diatribe. Not a single curse was repeated.

Thunder rumbled overhead, close enough that Veleth could feel it vibrate deep in his chest. Lightning began to snake its way through the dark clouds but it was an unnatural purple. Veleth felt the rage monster in his belly shift in irritation. Hosni was right; this wasn’t natural. Someone knew they were there and was trying to get rid of them. He glanced around. He would never approve of pirating, he was far too much a guard at heart to ever reconcile that, but he had to admit they were extremely efficient. None of them were panicking and seemed rather confident they would make it through. Nevano, on the other hand, was about ready to panic. Veleth knew he was rather worthless in helping the ship itself, but he could help Nevano. Stumbling a little as the ship heaved beneath his feet, Veleth made his way across the deck to where his and Nevano’s things were. He grabbed what he could and made his way back, shoving Nevano’s extraordinarily worn pack into his chest. 

“This thing survived the dragon attack on Helgen. Think it’ll bring us luck now?” Nevano asked.

“Considering it got you into a mess for being the wrong place at the wrong time, it damn well better get us out of this.” Veleth said. “Though if it’s anything like your tale of running from that dragon, you might have to get over your fear of water and quick.” 

“I’m not afraid of water!” Nevano snapped. “I just don’t like what tends to hide in it!”

Good. If Nevano was getting irritable with him, he wasn’t focused on being afraid. Anger was far more useful than fear. Anger would give far more clarity. Anger would keep them alive. 

It began to rain. Sheets of water fell like needles, stinging any exposed skin, dropping the visibility to next to nothing. The ocean was barely visible in the failing light, save for massive waves rising like giants when the lightning illuminated them beyond the confines of the ship. It made Veleth feel horribly vulnerable and very alone. All he could do was hold on tightly to whatever was closest while the storm whipped into a frenzy around him. 

The first major wave slammed into the ship. Veleth could hear a bellowed command but couldn’t make it out over the wind and rain. However, he knew what it meant when every crew member around him dove for a solid object. He scrambled for the rail just as the wave of water slammed into him and threw him roughly against the rail. Salt water stung his eyes and forced its way down his throat and nose, making him choke and gag. He clung desperately to the soaked wood, his nails cracking under the strain as the ship rolled again. 

“Get the foresail secured! Get those ropes! The wind is shifting from both sides! Waves are crashing in on both sides! They are trying to trap us in one spot, get those sails up and get us moving!”

Veleth felt his heart freeze at those words. If the ship was stalled in one spot, they were doomed. But what could he do? He had no idea just where their assailant was but even if he did what good what it do? He was not magically inclined enough to be able to stop this. They were totally helpless. 

“Look out!”

Purple lightning cracked overhead and struck the main mast. Splinters of wood flew everywhere as the currents of energy exploded within it. For a moment it seemed as if it would hold, but then the massive post leaned and snapped. Ropes broke free and the mainsail collapsed, having nothing to hold it in place. Pieces of the ship crashed down on the deck. Veleth tried to get away but the rocking of the ship made it nearly impossible. All he could do was duck as a boom swung wildly overhead. 

Not everyone ducked in time. Before he could even suck in the air needed to call out a warning, the boom caught Nevano and swept him unceremoniously off the ship and overboard. He stared in horrified disbelief at the now empty railing, barely able to comprehend just what had happened. 

Then the ship groaned, the wood underneath him shuddering as the battering from the waves slowly became too much for it. He knew right then that the ship was lost. Staying with it was a death sentence. Of course, his chances in the water were not much better. They were slightly better as the magic seemed to be focused on sinking the ship but it was a marginal difference. Not that it really mattered. His choice had been made for him the moment Nevano was swept overboard. 

He dove just as the deck split in half under the strain of the magically driven tides.

The cold hit him like punch to the stomach, causing him to drop his axe. The air left his lungs in shock. He kicked hard, trying to find the surface but it was so dark and cold it was nearly impossible. Somehow, amid the swirling, heaving dark water and foam, he bobbed to the surface and was able to suck in a quick gasp before a wave tried to push him back under. As he struggled to remain where the air was, cold water filled his boots and the crevices of his armor, weighing him down and dragging him back under the waves. He scrambled for the buckles of his armor, his lungs burning, demanding air, his toes kicking at the heels of his boots, shrugging the heavy bonemold plate off and letting them sink into the dark water below. 

Kicking his way back up, he gulped in air until he no longer felt like his lungs were going to explode. He looked around, trying to see if he could spot Nevano or anything that might look like a body floating on the surface but he couldn’t even see the ship anymore. A piece of wood crashed into his back and he grabbed it, using it to help keep him buoyant while he searched but he had no idea which direction to even start looking. He tried pull himself together but the cold was starting to set in. His muscles felt like they were locking up, making it hard to move. Stubbornly he kicked as hard as he could. If he kept moving, he wouldn’t freeze. 

A quick flash of red and gold light, very unlike the purple lightning cracking all around, between the waves caught his attention. It sparked a small sense of hope in the pit of his belly, the first he had felt since the storm began. Warmth spread through him, giving him the strength to push against the waves towards the flash. 

Trueflame. It was Trueflame, somehow flaring up through the water. He could just barely make out Nevano’s still form floating on the surface, his black armor making him invisible in the black water. As soon as he reached Nevano, the sword went dark. He grabbed the smaller mer and held him so his head was above water. Fortunately, Nevano was small and light, in light armor. He didn’t weigh Veleth down. It was easy to pull him along. Or as easy as it could be in rough water. The warmth was fading, the cold seeping back in. His teeth chattered as he began to shiver. He had Nevano at least but he had no idea which way to go. He couldn’t just swim aimlessly. There was no way to discern direction. Every time he thought he could, a wave would spin him around and he would lose all sense of direction. 

That way. 

As the thought popped in his head as clear as a spoken word, his body turned from a force not his own or the turbulent water around him. He didn’t know what or who was helping him. At this point, he didn’t care. Through flashes of lightning he thought he saw land. He kicked as hard as he could, fighting his way through the angry waters. He didn’t think they had been that close to land or that they had been pushed by the waves that close but, again, he didn’t care. He was cold, he was tired, he was desperate. Mehrunes Dagon appearing and pulling them from the water and dropping them on shore wouldn’t be refused at this point. 

It felt like hours later when he feet finally brushed ground. He was exhausted, so exhausted he could barely crawl up the beach out of the water. When he could no longer feel waves lapping at him, he simply stopped moving, his legs giving out under him. He lay there a few minutes, his teeth chattering uncontrollably but already he felt warmer now that he was out of the freezing water. He couldn’t pass out, not just yet. He looked over at Nevano and realized, with a jolt of shock that didn’t quite hit him physically, that Nevano wasn’t breathing. He gathered up what little remained of his strength and forced it all into one hard punch straight to Nevano’s stomach. 

Seawater sprayed out of Nevano’s mouth. He coughed and sputtered, bringing up what seemed like half the damned sea before sucking in a massive gulp of air. A few sputtering starts later, he was finally breathing evenly. 

That was all Veleth really needed. They both survived. They were exhausted, cold, hopelessly lost and alone but they were alive. They could figure this out. Later, though. He had no energy left. They were not in a safe place at all but his body refused to even consider any more movement. He collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground. 

XxXxXx

A/N: Confession time: I hated the axe. I hated the axe. I’m happy it’s gone. 

Also….fuck you Harvey, fuck you Irma and fuck you Maria.


	40. A Wild Welcome

Chapter 39

A Wild Welcome 

XxXxXx

4E 96 – Blacklight, Morrowind

Veleth grunted as he hit the ground for the umpteenth time. Despite being told numerous times he wasn’t old enough, he had finally convinced his father to teach him how to fight after months, years even, of begging and pleading. Whatever his expectations had been, he certainly didn’t think his primary view to be that of the sky.

“You keep leaving that flank open, son.” His father said, leaning on his practice sword, watching carefully. “It’s going to bite you in the ass one day.”

“I don’t get why we keep doing this over and over.” He groused as he got to his feet. “Those are Dunmer stances. I’m not going to fight Dunmer.”

“Oh really?” Jorun raised an eyebrow. “And just what do you think you’ll be fighting out there once you grow up?”

“Argonians.” He folded his arms across his chest. “They keep attacking the Safepoints. I want to fight them off once and for all!”

“A worthy cause, but what makes you think you can accomplish that on your own?”

That instantly took the wind out of his sails and he sputtered, at a complete loss at how to answer. Well, he wasn’t at a complete loss. He had imaged this scenario over and over again until it was in perfect clarity in his mind but now it seemed utterly ridiculous and there was no way he was going to tell his father. It was extremely annoying how his father managed to puncture his perfectly well-thought plans with just a few words.

His deflated look of defeat must of shown on his face but his father gave him a small smile and sat on the grass. “Come sit.”

Veleth moodily flopped next to him, ready for the boring lecture that was sure to follow. It didn’t start right away though. In fact, his father was...distant. They had ventured all the way out to their favorite spot in the foothills that rose above Blacklight to the west during Jorun’s very rare full day off. It had been something Veleth had been looking forward to for weeks. It just wasn’t going quite as he thought it would. 

His father sighed finally, puncturing the now-boring silence. “Boy...you are fifteen. You are old enough now. I’m going to pop that naive, yet highly noble, bubble you’ve created. You might envision yourself fighting Argonians but it’s not going to be like that at all. You are going to be fighting more humans and mer than giant lizards any day. You will have killed dozens of them before you even see an Argonian.”

Veleth felt the world shift under him. “I won’t kill a Dunmer.”

“You’ll kill Dunmer too, Modyn, if you choose to continue down this path.” His father gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “A soldier’s life is...mostly boring but when there is something going on, it’s incredibly dangerous and very bloody. The ones at the Safepoints? It’s even worse. Boring and tense all at the same time. Our homeland is in turmoil. If the people here aren’t running for their lives, they are turning to less-than-savory professions just trying to survive and you will have to deal with both. The purpose is to protect Morrowind...even if you have to kill a mer who has lost everything and sees his only choice as becoming a bandit. Do you think you can stomach that?”

“What if that bandit had made it to a safepoint? Maybe he wouldn’t be a bandit then.” Veleth said, conveniently shoving aside most of what his father said. He didn’t want anything to tarnish his view of what he wanted to do most in life. “Shouldn’t have been a bandit then.”

“Stubborn.” His father said but there was no heat behind it. Just a simple, highly irritating, observation.

“That’s not gonna stop me!” Veleth burst out. “I’m gonna fight Argonians and then we’ll be free! We can take back all of southern Morrowind!”

Veleth’s sharp, little ears caught the barely there sigh. “I hope you’re right, son.”

“Da?” There was a note of resignation and dejection in there that Veleth had never heard before from his father. It spawned a small note of doubt in his belly. He didn’t like that feeling, not one bit.

“Come on. Again.” Jorun picked himself up abruptly and nudged him up. Veleth picked up his wooden sword and threw everything he had into just trying to land even the slightest, glancing blow on his father’s weapon. 

He never once got that satisfaction.

 

Later that night, he lay in bed, trying to ignore all the aches and pains in his body to try and sleep. Unfortunately, to his great frustration, every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the stinging slap of yet another humiliating hit from a wooden sword. He sighed and rolled over gingerly. Sleep just wasn’t going to come easily tonight. Nothing hugely new there. The soft murmur of voices from downstairs caught his attention. Again nothing new. The conversations between his parents generally didn’t interest him. Good thing too, as he usually got caught by his rather alert (paranoid) father. This time though, he heard his name mentioned, stirring his interest. Curiosity overcame his reluctance of getting in trouble for listening in on something he had no business poking into. Slowly, carefully avoiding all the spots on the floor that made noise, he crawled over to the doorway. He eased the door open and scooted out just enough to clearly hear his parents’ voices from down the stairs.

“How did the first lesson go?” His mother asked. 

“It went well. Boy is stubborn and determined...almost to his own detriment.” His father said. “Actually, not almost. He’s going to land himself in trouble at some point. My goal is make sure he can protect himself when that happens and hope harsh reality sets in his mind so he won’t do it again.”

“Sounds very much like his father.”

“And his mother.” His father snorted in amusement. “Don’t deny your part in this. I had nothing to do with that temper.” There was a slight pause. “He’s going to make one hell of a warrior though. Most kids give up after getting whacked a few times in the shins with a wooden sword but he put up with it all day long. I daresay he’ll have me on my ass one day instead of the other way around.”

“That’ll be the day, though I don’t think you’ll retire, as tradition requires.” 

“Ha! Never!”

“Shh, don’t wake him up.”

“There’s just...one thing that bothers me.” Jorun sobered up suddenly. “I know it’s just childish dreams and that he’ll hopefully grow out of it but… I’m just not sure how to really break to him that, true, you can’t ignore the Argonian situation, but focusing all your energy and drive on that leaves you blind to the enemies that are right on your flank.” His father sank deeper into his seat. “How do you tell your own son that his worst enemies are here? Surrounding him in his own home? That this city is filled with just as many snakes as the swamps?”

Veleth didn’t hear his mother’s reply. He slithered back towards his bed, where he was supposed to be, his mind buzzing. What was his da talking about? There were no snakes in Blacklight, as far as he knew. Almost every Argonian inhabitant in the city had long since moved on after a backlash against them for their brethren invading the southern half of the province. The only time he had even seen an Argonian was by the docks but he hadn’t stayed long. He couldn’t think of anyone that could possibly be an enemy. It was, he decided, his father being paranoid again. 

He rolled over and pulled his blanket over his head, trying to block out the small squirm of doubt in his belly. He wasn’t going to let this get in the way of his dreams. 

XxXxXx

4E 201, 5th Sun’s Dusk – West Gash Region, Vvardenfell

The sound of rushing water reached through the murky dark. Ebbing and flowing. It wasn’t the gentle gurgle of a stream though. It was stronger than that. It was a more powerful clawing that reached towards his face. Like the ocean. He hated the ocean. Nothing good to him had ever come from the ocean. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see a wave finish rolling out onshore like a rug, just barely reaching his fingertips. He jerked his hand away, the movement awaking the deep chill in his limbs. It stabbed at him like thousands of white needles in his flesh. Or that was the sand being driven into him by an incessant wind. He couldn’t tell and it didn’t really matter. 

He dragged himself up, groaning as he did so. Everything hurt and not just from the cold. His head throbbed, his throat was rough and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had no idea how he managed to get these aches and pains. The last thing he remembered was watching the storm build. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t. He sat for a moment, shivering as he tried to brush off the worst of the wet sand, trying to get his bearings. He didn’t recognize this beach but from the muted gray color mixed in with the normal brown of beach sand as well as the sudden abundance of kreshweed all around him, it was safe to say they had managed to land ashore in Vvardenfell. That was something at least. 

He looked around and saw his pack had washed up a little ways down shore from him, mired partway in the surf. He sighed in relief. That thing had been dragged through every cave, bandit den, volcano, near death experience and bumpy horse ride from Bravil to Blacklight and still somehow managed to come through without dropping his belongings all over the road. The many-patched up bag was as loyal as a dog. He knew it was foolish, a bag was easily replaced, but the thought of losing it hurt as much as losing a friend. He didn’t like losing things.

Stumbling on frozen legs, he clawed his way to it and opened it up to see what had survived. A rather disgruntled fish flopped out and wiggled in the wet sand. Alright, so as loyal as a dumb dog. He poked the fish back into the water and returned to inspecting his bag. Unfortunately, every map or bit of parchment he had in there was completely ruined. It just left him with the random assortment of items that he usually carried around that were more or less waterproof or would dry out eventually. Somehow the lenses had come through without getting destroyed. Lucky those. He pulled them on purely to keep the sand from whipping into his eyes further. Nothing else in his bag provided any further use unfortunately. His stomach growled loudly. He probably shouldn’t have kicked that fish back into the water...

Nevano dragged himself back to his feet and looked back the way he had come. Veleth was lying a little ways away from where Nevano had been. He was still unconscious, face down in the sand. All of his armor was missing, leaving him with only the thin clothes he wore underneath. He had a few minor cuts but what worried Nevano most was how pale his skin was. Instead of the hue of hot volcanic ash, he resembled the cold winter sky overhead. Just as frigid too, Nevano realized with a start when he put a hand on Veleth’s shoulder. He needed to warm the younger mer up quickly. Nevano hooked his hands under Veleth’s arms and tried to pull him off the beach with the intention of getting him into the slight shelter of the scrub trees nearby but was jerked to an unwelcome and sudden stop face down in the sand. Veleth was dead weight. Nevano rubbed at his shoulders. He remembered when this kid was small enough to hang off his neck. Now he couldn’t budge him. 

“Didn’t realize when I called you Bull that you would weigh as much as one.” He groused to himself. He scrambled back to the tree line, picking up whatever looked like it would burn readily enough, piling it up as close to Veleth as he could. Thank goodness the gods blessed Dunmer with the ability to withstand fire. He clumsily snapped his fingers, trying to get the only meager fire spell he knew to work through chilled fingers. Small sparks jumped from his pale fingertips but it mercifully caught, lighting up the dry twigs quickly. 

Nevano scooted around to try to block the wind as much as he could from his little fire and huddled close, his own hands shoved into the warmth of the flames, watching Veleth. After several long minutes, color finally began to return to Veleth’s skin and he began to shiver, his body finally working to warm up on it’s own. Nevano felt his spine relax, releasing the tension that had locked up his limbs. They were going to be ok. He just needed to find some food and, he decided as his tongue rolled gritty sand around his dry mouth, fresh water. Once those needs were met, they could start to figure out where they were and work from there. 

There was a sudden shift in the air. There was nothing he could see or really feel in the sense of touching it with his hands but he could feel it deep in his chest. Everything around him, the wind, the sand, the plants, even the sea, seemed to cringe and withdraw into itself. He sat up straighter, his dry mouth instantly forgotten. The flames of the fire shrunk and the wind faltered. For an instant the world seemed to splinter into thousands of cubes, each spinning in on itself. Beneath the fragments, Nevano could see flickers of light. It was magic. Magical energy. The energy of all things. It lay in lines, weaving through everything in perfect harmony like a the threads of a rug but as the cubes flipped, the lines tangled and trembled, stretching beyond their limits, threatening to break. The world cried in agony, so shrill that Nevano thought his ears would pop and bleed. Then it was gone. The fire crackled as normal, the wind howled, the dry sedges nearby rattled gently and the surf rolled. 

Nevano realized he was shaking, though this time not from the cold, sweat breaking out along his spine, his lungs nearly paralyzed from the sheer magnitude of the episode. That was a powerful pulse of magic to affect nature so. Powerful and dark. He had a deep sickening feeling he knew exactly what that was. 

Veleth twitched and rolled over in the sand. “The hell was that?”

“Trouble. Big trouble.” Nevano shoved the sick feeling in the pit of his belly as far back as he could, looked back at the younger mer as he sat up gingerly after a few tries. “You feeling ok? You didn’t look like you were knocked out by anything. I think you just passed out from exhaustion and just got cold.”

“Considering we unwillingly disembarked into the middle of the sea and then I got to swim the both of us through some slightly turbulent waters while trying not to freeze to death...yeah, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine.” Veleth rubbed at his face, futilely trying to get all the sand off. 

“Sarcasm doesn’t sound good on you.”

“I had a few extra hours to rehearse that rant.” Veleth moved back closer to the flames. “Do you have Trueflame, Hopesfire and Bonebiter?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because that makes you the only one armed...and armored.” Veleth shook his head. “I had to drop mine. I didn’t think being armed at the bottom of the sea was practical.”

“Well, at least you got pants on. Count that as a big plus.” Nevano said cheerfully, earning a growl from the disgruntled mer. “There are far worse situations to be in. We aren’t really hurt, somehow, and we ended up where we need to be. Roughly at least. We’re on Vvardenfell. That much I can tell you with confidence. The rest is a bit up in the air.” 

Veleth chose to ignore him, instead looking around. “I’ve only heard stories that this was a miserable place of ash and dust. I didn’t expect to see any plants at all.”

“Stories from people who never stepped foot on Vvardenfell?” Nevano smirked. 

“Mostly talk from what we could see from Solstheim and from what it did to the island. Wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world and the constant ash on Solstheim was enough to drive anyone insane. Actually did, to a few of the weaker souls there.”

“Solstheim was covered in snow for most of the year from winds driven from Skyrim. The plants and animals there were made for cold and snow. When a hot blast of ash covered it, the plants simply couldn’t survive.” Nevano motioned in the direction he knew the volcano to be. “Vvardenfell grew around the volcano, to the point where it actually relies on it. The ashy soil is actually good for the plants here. Go kick some ash and you’ll find something green growing under it. The eruption might have chased civilized life away, but everything in the wild is doing just fine on its own here. Some parts of Vvardenfell are wastes, yes, but every province has parts that are like that. It’s no different than anywhere else.”

“Didn’t you say you had a dream where all of Vvardenfell was this wasteland?”

“Let me tell you about the daedra princes and their dreams.” Nevano said. “Are some things they show you true? Yes. But they will only show you a truth they want you to see. Generally, Azura shows me the truth...but she likes to twist things a bit to ensure that I do them instead of, oh I don’t know, asking politely? The others? I’d be even more suspicious that they are showing you something not true. They are daedra. Truth means nothing to them unless they want it to. Sometimes I even wonder if they know what truth is, since they can so easily twist it to serve them.”

Veleth nodded silently, his gaze suddenly distant. 

Nevano narrowed his eyes. He had had suspicions for a while that a daedra was targeting the younger mer but Veleth had been infuriatingly quiet about it. He really wanted to question him in depth over it, indeed was opening his mouth to ask the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue, but a slight whisper of movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him. It was barely more than a leaf bending to a slight breeze but the way it bent slightly wrong in comparison to its neighbors was all the warning Nevano needed. He was a bit surprised. Not that this was happening but that it took a lot longer than he thought it would. 

“Bull? I need you to look at me.” Veleth gave him a strange look. “I need you to stay calm and, most importantly, stay quiet. Don’t get mad, don’t act, don’t argue. Just do as I do. Yes?” He smiled as Veleth, his head tilted slightly in confusion, nodded slowly. Calmly, he stood and raised his hands in the air. “Spread your fingers so they don’t think you are hiding a knife in your palm.”

“They?” Veleth cut himself off abruptly as he realized that there was a dozen drawn arrows pointed right at his chest. Carefully he got to his feet and raised his hands in the air, fingers splayed as instructed. 

Nevano shrugged as rather wild looking Dunmer appeared out of thin air like ghosts. “The Velothi aren’t very fond of visitors.”

XxXxXx

Veleth was not a total stranger to certain aspects of Ashlander behavior. Mostly, the twins back in Solstheim had been his biggest insight to their habits even though, by their own admission, the twins had gotten more used to living with city mer. They could still move silently and disappear into thin air when they felt like it though. The reavers had thoroughly hated the twins and their surprised cries when one seemingly popped into existence next to them with a blade at their throats always put a smile on Veleth’s face. It wasn’t quite as amusing on the wrong side of the situation however. 

A dozen Ashlanders, their bodies dressed and painted to match the harsh landscape around them, surrounded them, each armed with bows and arrows but also with sharp knives that seemed too small to be much use but Veleth knew better than to ever underestimate the size of a weapon or its wielder. He had learned that lesson the hard way after getting stabbed in the back with a dinner knife by a jilted ex-lover. These knives were significantly sharper. 

Strangely enough, he felt nothing other than a small bump of irritation. Maybe because he had just found himself stranded on a beach after swimming through a storm or maybe it was because he was just still that sore and tired but he simply felt that this was just another annoying set-back in their annoying trip. He wanted them to hurry up and figure out what they wanted to do so that they could get back on their way. He was very much done with these set-backs and hiccups. 

Without wavering his intense gaze, the hunter nearest Veleth spoke. Veleth didn’t have a perfect grasp of the language; usually when Nevano spoke it, he would pick out enough words to piece together the general meaning. There was no such word picking this time. The hunter’s accent was so different than the Cyrodillic tilt Nevano had, different even from the accent the twins had, that his mind heard only gibberish. 

While the hunter spoke, a petite woman stepped forward. She was tiny, nearly child small. Even Nevano looked stocky in comparison and he was short for a Dunmer. Her outfit consisted of scraps of netch leather cobbled together into something that was clearly designed for stealth and speed rather than modesty. It made Veleth’s ears burn. Fierce red eyes flashed from under a fringe of messy dark hair, running over the two mer in front of her. Veleth felt like an animal being considered for slaughter, causing a stronger thump of annoyance to flop in his belly. The rage monster stirred in its cage, annoyed at being challenged like this. It must have showed on his face for she glared at him for a moment longer before barking an incomprehensible command. 

“Seh.” Nevano said. Stop. Veleth knew that that meant ‘Stop’ in Velothi. Then he went on to say, in an accent Veleth could understand, that not only could he understand them, and their insults, perfectly but that they were here to stop the surges of magic, not add to it. Veleth got a bit of dark satisfaction in watching the subtle widening of eyes in pure shock at how perfectly Nevano spoke to them. The little woman, on the other hand, was not the least bit impressed. She demanded something in a clipped tone, Veleth could only guess that she wanted to know their names, judging by the way Nevano hesitated. 

The little woman did not like that in the slightest. She had made a demand and she wanted answers immediately. She charged over to Nevano and ripped the lenses from his face. As soon as she got a good look at his face she hissed and jumped back. The other hunters shifted and murmured. Even after all these years, everyone still knew what those yellow eyes meant. Next to him, Nevano gave a resigned sigh.

“Are you him?” She demanded, switching to a heavily accented Dunmeri. 

Tiredly, almost reluctantly, Nevano turned his right hand around, Moon-And-Star dazzling in the weak winter light as brightly as if it were full sunlight. As one, their faces paled and arrows wavered, making Veleth a bit wary one would slip past nerveless fingers.

“You live.”

“I never died.” Nevano said. By his clipped tone, his mood was souring quickly as it always did when he had to talk about being the Nerevarine. 

“Why…?”

“I need to see your ashkahn.”

“That is...a rude...”

“I know I’m breaking your rules but we don’t have time. You felt that surge, you know we don’t have time.” Nevano said shortly. “We don’t, Morrowind doesn’t, which means you don’t have the time either. We are here chasing trouble.”

“The Thalmor.” The tiny woman didn’t sound the least bit surprised. “The ones causing the magic surges.”

“Yes.”

The girl was quiet a moment before barking yet another indecipherable command. The arrows disappeared in the blink of an eye and several hunters melted into the brush around them.

“Come. It’s long way.”

Nevano dropped his arms. “As before, as always, we are not your enemy.”

“As before, as always, we honor the Nerevarine.” 

They took off without another word and, after exchanging a brief look, Veleth and Nevano followed. The Ashlanders set a brutal pace through the wilderness, darting in and out of trees and bushes as if they didn’t even exist. Veleth was determined to keep up, despite his aching body protesting every move and his feet getting more and more cut up the deeper into the wilderness they got. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of them and the concerned looks Nevano kept shooting over his shoulder was becoming downright maddening. He could feel eyes on him. He was being watched and judged. These young hunters wanted to know if a city mer could keep up. His pride demanded he prove them wrong. The smoldering irritation in the pit of his belly helped push him on. It would rather he die before he hit the ground. 

The ground grew rougher. Sharp volcanic rocks hid below a thin layer of dust and ash that managed to elicit a wince from him every time he managed to step on one, no matter how swiftly he bit down on his tongue to hold it back. His muscles had been beaten and frozen and now were cracking under the strain. He honestly didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Judging by how hard Nevano was panting next to him, even he was starting to think this was getting a bit ridiculous. Just as he was positive the next step would be the death of him, the gods took mercy on them and a huddle of yurts came into view. The band of hunters slowed down to a fast walk. While it was still excruciating movement, it was very preferable to the death run they had just completed. 

“You run well...for an outlander.” The tiny woman said, walking past him. It was a back-handed compliment but it was as high of praise as he was going to get from these unforgiving people. He nodded in acknowledgment, hoping they couldn’t see how badly he wanted to give in to screaming muscles and collapse on the ground. 

“That was a somewhat polite way of saying you probably just outdid every Dunmer on the mainland with the possible exception of scouts or runners since, you know, they are like half your size and have the world chasing after them.” Nevano said. 

“Did I ever tell you that I really don’t like running?” Veleth said. “I’ll travel all day long but I’d rather pick a pace that won’t drop me at the end of the day. Besides, heavy armor and weapons are not the best things to run with. Tends to make things a bit more difficult.”

“Then you probably chose the best possible time to drop them at the bottom of the sea.”

He was trying not to think of that. He didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, especially with an entire tribe of Ashlanders glaring at them as they were led through the camp. There was some curiosity there but it was mostly from a child here and there peeking out from a hiding spot. Every other stare, though, was naked contempt. He felt as though he was a criminal being led through the city in a display of public shame. Fortunately the camp was small so they didn’t have to endure this walk of shame for very long. They stopped in front of a tight cluster of yurts, the netch leather sides more elaborately painted than the others and the entrance guarded by an older mer, scars from past fights liberally decorating his tightly crossed arms. Judging by the thunderous look on his face, he was not the least bit pleased to see them. 

The ferocious little woman stormed up to the warrior and, without so much as a greeting, both launched into a rather heated argument that made even the tough hunters squirm a bit. Veleth had seen fights like this break out between his men before. If he wasn’t able to head it off early, it almost always ended in an all out brawl, dragging in anyone unfortunate enough to be close. In all honesty, he’d probably put his gold on the little girl coming out of that fight on top. 

Nevano’s face was unreadable as he watched the increasingly heated exchange between the stone-eyed warrior and their fiery, little captor. “Our bold friend here is not a simple hunter.”

“Oh?” This came as no surprise. No one of any insignificant rank would dare act out the way she did. 

“She’s the Ashkhan’s daughter.” Nevano said. “The one she’s arguing with is the clan’s Gulakhan. Have to go through the Gulakhans first to speak to the Ashkhan. As impatient as I’m feeling and as demanding as I was earlier...I can’t and won’t force their customs. Won’t end well.”

“The Ashkhan’s daughter has no sway?”

“Apparently she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.” Nevano finally looked at him. “Not as bad as going to a dockside tavern with the intention of seeing the bar wenches up close.”

Veleth felt his ears catch on fire. “You are never going to forget that, are you?”

“Never.” Mercifully Nevano dropped off teasing and turned serious again. “This bit isn’t really about us. I mean, no Ashlander is pleased to see an outlander in their camp but we just got pushed to an afterthought. Apparently we are merely reigniting an old argument.” He tilted his head a little. “They aren’t going to hurt us but I’m not sure how much help we’re going to get from them in all this mess. Apparently things are as bad for them here as things are bad for us on the mainland.”

The Gulakhan threw his hands up with a disgusted huff and stormed off to the large yurt behind him. 

“That was what I was hoping for.”

“What?” Veleth asked as the girl waved them to follow.

“We’re going to meet the Ashkhan.” Nevano gave him a look. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Just sit, be quiet and what happens, happens.”

They were led into the yurt, where they found themselves in an entry room, separated from the rest of the yurt by a woven mat hung as a door. Thick rugs covered the walls and floors and a small fire crackled in the center of the room. Veleth shifted a little. It was a relief to stand on something softer but he didn’t feel much like leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Nevano elbowed him to be still. 

The Gulakhan and the little huntress wasted no time slipping right back into their previous argument, even more animated now that they were mostly out of sight of others. Nevano rolled his eyes. Apparently the fight was starting to devolve into stupid little barbs that had absolutely nothing to do with the task at hand. 

“It is customary to speak in a tongue that all can understand.” Nevano said, shrugging a little when both looked at him. “Or would you prefer I translate for everyone?” It was a slight barb, perfectly delivered as to not fully insult everyone but to remind them of their manners. 

The girl waved her hands at them. “Speak Dunmeri then. They need to know. One outlander does not speak Velothi good.”

The Gulakhan spat out a string of overly sarcastic insults but Veleth was well-versed enough in those he easily understood how everything from his heritage to the air he breathed was being shit on. He almost piped up to say he understood the insults but decided to hold his tongue. There was some advantage in keeping up the pretense he understood nothing at all.

“They will help us!”

“We do not need outsiders help!” 

“Enough!” The air settled into a reluctant calm in the yurt as the Ashkhan finally came in from the back portion of the yurt. “Enough fighting. We have guests. Not just any guests, but one worthy of honor. Neither of you are representing our people well.”

The Ashkhan turned to them. He was no older than Veleth’s own father but the lines of strain in his weathered skin made him seem much older. Veleth got the impression that while his people were sharp and suspicious, this man was weary and preoccupied. His daughter taking her band of young, reckless hunters and his Gulakhan exploding in anger at every rebellion was only making things worse. It reminded him strongly of the times he had rebelled against his parents, though he had never worn them down so badly. At least he didn’t think he ever did.

“The Nerevarine was thought to have gone to Akavir, thought to be dead.” Though his voice was heavily accented, his Dunmeri was perfect. Even more so, Veleth mused to himself, than some who had never spoken a word in another language their whole lives. “I am very curious what you are doing back here, alive and well.”

“I have been everywhere.” Nevano said. “All over enough that I have seen that while one problem ended with Dagoth Ur’s death, more arose in the world. I couldn’t fix them all and I wasn’t about to kill myself in trying. Morrowind needed to learn to fend for itself without me. Unfortunately, the problems of the empire that have spilled over into Morrowind were a bit too much for me to leave it alone this time.”

“The Thalmor. That is it, is it not?” The girl spoke up.

“Zula!” The Ashkhan scolded her. 

“No, we been bearing them here too long!” The girl Veleth now knew was Zula shot back. “They are worse than empire!”

“They are none of your concern, little girl.” The Gulakhan snapped. “These are matters for those other than you. Your job, as a hunter, is bring home food, or is that too much for you now?”

“Hasnat...”

“Ours has always been, and always should be, survival. The land is even less giving now, more so now. Our people are suffering.” The Gulakhan said hotly. 

“It’s because of the Thalmor that we can barely even find food anymore!” Zulu gestured wildly in his face. 

Nevano coughed, effectively bringing their attention back to them. “I see I brought a testy subject with me.”

“It is a subject we have been unable to come to an agreement over.” The Ashkhan said, ignoring twin disgusted snorts from Hasnat and Zula. “Though I can see it’s something you wish to discuss. I will discuss it with you, but not right now. I must speak to our wise woman first. Until then, you are welcome in our camp. You will have a place to sleep for the night.”

Nevano didn’t argue but Veleth could see the muscle in Nevano’s neck leap suddenly, signifying that the smaller mer was struggling to stay polite and not pop off what he really wanted to say. He was impressed. Nevano usually didn’t show such restraint. “I greatly appreciate your hospitality. We gladly accept.”

Veleth stayed quiet as they were led across the camp, past the now openly curious tribe whose stares had at least lost some of the disdain but none of the distrust. If they were to gain their trust at all, it would be through a monumental effort, he realized. Nevano said nothing, didn’t even glance around as they walked through. It wasn’t until the netch leather flap to the yurt they were given had closed behind them that his shoulders even relaxed. 

“You didn’t push it.” Veleth said as he dropped down. This yurt was far more sparsely decorated than the others but there was a rug separating his ass from the ground and there was a small fire to keep the biting wind at bay. It felt good to finally relax even if every stress and strain and injury was now making itself very well known with nothing else to distract him from it. He would be feeling this for days. 

“No.” Nevano pulled Trueflame into his lap and began to meticulously inspect the blade. “It wouldn’t have done any good even if I had, though I really wanted to shake sense into them all. This tribe is split in half. The young hot heads are wild for a fight but the older generations are more concerned with the tribe. Neither is wrong, really...but this Ashkhan is indecisive. It’s rendered the whole tribe unable to move in any direction and it’s caused tensions to flare up to...well, you saw. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s truly torn or if he doesn’t like making decisions. He’s going to stubbornly sit there until a choice is forced.”

“Those never end well.” 

“No, they don’t. I’m willing to wait to see what the wise woman says but I’m also very prepared to just up and take off if nothing happens here soon. I can’t save them from themselves and I don’t have the time to even try.” Nevano looked up. “Try to get some sleep. They deliberately ran us ragged and you are torn up. We’re safe here, that I can assure you of.”

“Are you ok?” He asked, remembering how Nevano had shifted every time someone brought up the whole Nerevarine thing. It was hard to remember that Nevano was known to everyone as the Nerevarine when he had never known Nevano as anything other than Nevano. Here, to the Ashlanders, he was known as something entirely different than he was to the rest of the world. 

Nevano slowly set Trueflame down, his eyes distant. “This is...bringing back a lot of memories I hadn’t really thought of in a long time. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You never really did get much closure, did you?”

“I guess not.” Nevano shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably, turning his attention to his sword again. “Once the volcano erupted, that was it. I never really looked back. There was too much to do and I just...I wanted a different life, especially when everything here had just been erased. Like it never existed at all. That doesn’t always work out though, as we’ve both found out. Though you haven’t fully found your path yet.” Before Veleth could respond to that, Nevano looked up sharply at him, hard yellow eyes telling him he wouldn’t get much else out of the short mer. “Get as much rest as you can because we won’t have this luxury for long.”

He didn’t argue against the sudden dismissal. Pushing Nevano was futile and besides, he was tired and that reasoning made perfect sense. It wasn’t something he was about to admit, would ever admit, but every fiber in his body was screaming at him to shut up and give in. All he wanted was to do was pass out and he wasn’t picky as to where. He felt completely beaten up and worn down. However the gnawing monster in his gut was not the least bit tired. It was clawing at the cage he had managed to corner it in, enraged at being unable to vent its frustration on anything. 

“Oh shut up...” He murmured. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bed consisted of a woven blanket thrown over a thin mat but right now it felt like the most comfortable bed in the world. Once the raging beast retreated, grumbling, to its corner, Veleth was able to enjoy one of the rare moments of falling directly into sleep. 

Of course whatever was controlling his dreams wouldn’t allow him the oblivious rest he so desperately needed. That would simply be asking for too much. It felt as if as soon as he was released into the realm of sleep, something gripped his mind and jerked it from his control, sending him spiraling down through blood and fire. There was no patience tonight, no subtle message. Whatever he was supposed to see, he was going to see and understand immediately. 

It was a gladiator ring, pitted with boulders and lava pools, one that changed depending on the master’s will. Currently there were ten stone cells, the walls high enough to keep impatient fighters from climbing over and killing their opponent next door before the main event, all encircling a main arena in the middle. All the cells were occupied, save one. That empty cell was infuriating. The fighter it was meant to contain had thus far ignored all orders to attend. At first it was amusing, like watching a lively horse kick out at the unwary, but not anymore. He would obey and come, or he would die. Defiance could be a good thing, but not against The Master. 

The Master has been patient up till now, something nigh unheard of. It made all the other fighters eager to see this newcomer that The Master was willing to wait on. They were eager to best him, to prove that they were far more worthy of this special attention than he was. 

The missing fighter was close. He was where The Master wanted him to be, had already bested the challenges that had been thrown at him, even if some unsanctioned help had been provided. That would be dealt with later; the uninvited players would know The Master’s displeasure. What needed to happen now was for The Master’s final champion to begin making his way to his place. You. You, my stubborn Bull. 

‘No.’ Veleth jerked away, determined to not be tempted, shoving away the growing eagerness in his belly to fight, to rip apart anything that stood in his way. 

You will obey.

‘I am not a puppet. I am not a little sycophantic minion that dances to your whims!’ He screamed in his own mind, the words managing to echo out for all to hear. The fighters in the cages roared in rage. Typical, mindless, worthy of nothing but contempt. 

Then prove it. 

‘I have nothing to prove.’

You have everything to prove. You think you will survive on nothing more than stubbornness and defiance when nothing and no one cares. Prove your worth. Prove your name and maybe you will earn the slightest bit of infamy to use in a future where you will need every bit of recognition in order to even get noticed. You are nothing and no one and you will continue to be nothing until you stain your hands with more blood than you ever thought you could stomach. You will obey and come to my call. You will...

AWAKE!

Veleth jerked as if he had been struck by lightning, barely able to keep up as he went from a sound sleep to ready to fight in an instant, his heart striking a beat against his ribs. He took in a deep shuddering breath to try to calm himself but a nervous energy raced through every fiber in his body, forcing a cold shudder through his limbs. He wanted to get up, he needed to move. No...no. It was more than that. He needed to leave. He knew what this was. It had finally come. He couldn’t ignore this any longer. He had to face this once and for all. More than that, he was late for it. Impatience not his bore into his gut, forcing him to his feet. He was to go. Now. The monster in his gut had escaped from its cage but instead of raging and railing against him, it was running in frantic circles. Run. Now!

Nothing stirred as he slipped from the yurt and simply walked from the camp. No one, not Nevano and not the highly alert Ashlanders, stopped him or even seemed to notice him. That erased the last vestiges of doubt in his mind that this was more by design than by accident. He was finally doing what he had been ordered to do. He couldn’t say for sure that that was a good thing, nor could he even say that what was coming was going to be pleasant in the slightest. If anything, going forward would probably be one of the most foolish things he had ever done in his life. 

Without giving it a second thought, he walked off into the night. 

XxXxXx

A/N: My apologies on such a long wait. Life put on boxing gloves and has a nasty left hook. Actually, it’s more of a sucker punch in the gut, grad school has the left hook. Bear with me as things slowly grind out. 

Hmmm, it seems Fanfic is down. Looks like AOO gets the update first this time.


End file.
